This is a most welcome (and long-awaited) addition to Ligeti's music on disc. Dating from 1974-7 Le grand macabre acts as a kind of bonding agent between the avant-garde tendencies of Ligeti's early works (the Requiem and the two anti-operas, Aventures and Nouvelles aventures, for instance) and his subsequent transition towards a more traditional, though no less experimental style that had its beginnings in works like the Double Concerto and San Francisco Polyphony. The evolution of Le grand macabre is long and complex. It was first commissioned in 1965 by Goran Gentele (director of the Stockholm Opera) and was originally going to follow the same crazy style and sound-world as the two surrealistic anti-operas mentioned above.
However, by 1969 Ligeti was beginning to move away from the idea of an anti-opera, and in collaboration with Gentele, began work on a comic-strip version of the Oedipus legend. The project, however, was abandoned in 1972 following the sudden and tragic death of Gentele, and once again Ligeti found himself in search of a suitable subject. He had been considering an Ubu drama by Alfred Jarry when he stumbled upon the play La balade du grande macabre by the Belgian writer Michel de Ghelderode. Here was a subject that had all the ingredients and potential that he had been searching for, and together with Aliute Meczies and Michael Meschke they began the process of 'Jarrifying' it and transforming it into a usable libretto.
The opera is set in the imaginary country of Breughelland; a dilapidated and shabby principality under the rulership of the childish glutton Prince Go-Go. It opens with a Toccata for 12 motor car horns (vintage variety) in the manner of Monteverdi's Toccata from Orfeo—a kind of 'Monteverdi meets the Marx Brothers meet Ligeti'. To this the sinister character Nekrotzar (the Tsar of death) makes his entrance announcing the imminent destruction of the world. Enlisting the services of the local inebriate Piet the Pot (as his horse), he rides off to spread the terrible news. Also introduced in the first scene are the lovers Spermando and Clitoria (though prudishly renamed Amando and Amanda for the recording) who are so absorbed in each other they remain oblivious of the arrival of Nekrotzar. They retreat to a tomb to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh.
The second scene takes place in the house of the royal astrologer Astradamors, where we find him, and his wife Mescalina engaged in some very peculiar practices involving leather gear, whip and—a saucepan lid? After a while Mescalina orders her husband back to his telescope. Enter Nekrotzar and Piet. Nekrotzar ravages Mescalina whilst she is experiencing an erotic vision involving the goddess Venus: Mescalina dies in mid-orgasm. Nekrotzar, Piet and Astradamors proceed to the royal palace.
Act 2 continues with more slapstick capers and risque banter; this time involving Prince Go-Go, his two ministers and his Chief of the Secret Police—Gepopo. Gepopo announces the arrival of Nekrotzar, who duly appears and pronounces the end of the world and... and nothing happens. Overcome with embarrassment Nekrotzar shrivels and dies. Leaving the principal characters (including a resurrected Mescalina) to ponder the moral of the tale.
The moral of course is open to many interpretations (and has no doubt gathered a few more since its first performance in the seventies), but that is Ligeti's intention—to pose more questions than answers. Is Nekrotzar really Death, or is he just a pretentious charlatan? Do they really survive, or is death just a continuation of life? Unanswered questions are the only certainty you'll encounter in this opera, that and two hours of immensely enjoyable entertainment.
Musically Le grand macabre represents a pinnacle of Ligeti's output. There are many passages that recall the earlier works, and a few, though only a few, that point to the rhythmic complexity of his recent scores. But there is also a great deal that is entirely unique to the opera. Ligeti cites as his models Monteverdi's L'Incoronazione di Poppea and Verdi's Falstaff—in so much as the opera follows more or less the same episodic structure with orchestral intermezzos alternating with very short independent musical units. There are also numerous 'half' quotations and allusions, which Ligeti describes as signals to the real world (outside the surrealistic world of the opera). When all is said and done Le grand macabre remains an opera of ambiguities—a movable feast open to numerous interpretations. The one thing we can be certain of, however, is that since its first performance 13 years ago it has rightfully earned a place as one of the classic operas of contemporary music.
Elgar Howarth's superlative performance hardly needs any recommendation from me (it was he after all who conducted the first performance in Stockholm); nor do the committed and sharply drawn performances from the excellent line up of singers. Dieter Weller's Nekrotzar and Peter Haage's Piet are particularly fine. A superb recording (made in the Konzerthaus, Vienna) sets the seal on this magnificent recording. Buy it without hesitation.'