''Beautiful but too serious and old-fashioned for the theatre'', wrote the 14-year-old Mozart to his sister after attending the first performance of Armida abbandonata—about the seventieth of Jommelli's operas—in Naples in 1770. Along with Gluck, Jommelli was regarded as the greatest opera composer of his day (so that his representation in the current recorded catalogue—one oratorio, one cantata and two operatic arias—is conspicuously ungenerous); but despite the tremendous reputation he had earned in Rome, Vienna and particularly Wurttemberg (then one of the most brilliant musical centres in Europe), and an all-star cast, the audience in his native Naples failed to appreciate the work. They found his advanced orchestral writing (influenced by the Mannheim school) and bold chromaticism too much for them, and opera seria was becoming outmoded: only later, through the circulation of manuscript copies and some stage revivals, did the work gain fame. For modern productions its drawbacks are its length (largely due to the yards of recitative, which however are made necessary by the complexities of the plot), the extreme virtuosity it demands from every one of the singers and the present-day need to have four male roles sung by women, and the spectacular stage effects (the collapse of Armida's palace and her flight in a chariot drawn by fiery dragons at the end of Act 2).
This is far, however, from a conventional opera seria, particularly the Third Act, where the scene in the magic forest unfolds in a remarkable sequence of recitatives both secco and accompanied (with varied instrumentation), short arias and choruses. Elsewhere, traditional da capos are reduced, interrupted or foregone, and middle sections often show startling changes in mood, tempo and/or metre. Notable features are the lengthy orchestral introduction to each aria and the independence of the orchestra from the voice. The orchestra indeed play a major role in the opera, the violins especially given scintillating and enormously demanding parts. All the accompanied recitatives, in which Jommelli's chromaticisms are given their head, are extremely dramatic.
After due consideration, I feel I can say that this is the finest recording of a baroque opera I have yet heard. The ear is beguiled from the outset by the light, agile playing Rousset secures in the Overture, and throughout the opera all sections of the orchestra shine (the wind are given a special opportunity in the opening ritornello to Rambaldo's first aria). As to the voices, it would be difficult to assemble a more brilliant cast. The sole male singer, Gilles Ragon, has an easy style in all his three ornate solos—the second a traditional metaphor-aria about a sailor on stormy seas, the third a spirited call to battle—and repeatedly and effortlessly sails up to a high C. As Rinaldo, Claire Brua is particularly appealing in her expressive Act 2 aria ''Caro mio ben'' and in the duet (the only one in the opera) with Armida that ends Act 1. Laura Polverelli (a contralto rather than a mezzo) shows a fine sostenuto in ''Non ti sdegnar'', and Veronique Gens is her sweet-voiced self in a rather smaller part. Everyone has extremely florid coloratura to sing even the minor role of Ubaldo has an aria that elsewhere would be expected of a principal—and does full justice to them; but the greatest demands of all are made on the title-role (which was originally taken by Anna De Amicis, for whom Mozart wrote Lucio Silla). Standing out from the other female voices by a more pungent quality, eminently suited to the character of the sorceress Armida, Ewa Malas-Godlewska exhibits dazzling bravura in an angry aria ''Se la pieta'', is intensely moving in the heartbroken ''Ah, ti sento'' (which richly deserves Mozart's praise) and, entering fully into the character, almost screams with fury in her aria at the end of Act 2, which Jommelli's contemporaries regarded with something approaching awe.
This whole recording, arising from a performance at the Beaune Festival, is a triumph for all concerned.'