Muti's previous recording of this opera is only six years old. That was made with the forces of La Scala in La Scala but not at a live performance. This one is taken, for both better and worse, straight off the stage at performances there last May. You immediately feel that added frisson of a 'real' occasion and that continues throughout a well-prepared and well-integrated performance, applause restricted to ends of acts, virtually no audience noise, but – as engineered here by David Mottley (producer) and his team – the action seems somewhat distanced, as though you are sitting in the balcony rather than the stalls. You need a very high volume setting to get a satisfactory level from the singers; then the orchestra sound too loud. That makes a stark and unfavourable contrast with the immediate, excellently balanced EMI recording (David Groves, producer) where the voices have more presence. And, although the orchestra are, as I have suggested, recorded prominently on the new set, more detail is evident on the older version. I make this comparison first because it is such a marked one.
As for Muti's interpretation, it has changed very little during the intervening period. It remains rewardingly vital, rhythmically speaking. Every moment is acutely and alertly sprung with speeds tending to be on the brisk side; sometimes I felt this time a shade uncomfortably so, in ''Si vendetta'' and the Quartet for instance, but far better that excess than an anonymous reading. It is at the furthermost extreme from Giulini's grand, leisurely approach, more akin to Chailly's. It is a pleasure to hear how Muti, in both versions, observes the importance Verdi gives to oboe, clarinet and bassoon in providing the score with its particular tinta, how effectively he underpins the aforementioned ''Si vendetta'' with magnificently seething strings, how profitably he makes all his singers observe to the letter what Verdi wrote. He gives the latter some licence in terms of rubato, perhaps not enough in, say, ''La donna e mobile'', where older tenors – as La Scola (EMI) or Alagna are not – were allowed to linger over their phrasing.
Ah, Alagna! Many will be interested in the set for the participation of the new star. Well, to my mind this is his best recording to date (including the new EMI recital). Listen to the Duke's aria and cabaletta at the start of Act 3 and you will hear this young tenor's tone perfectly suited and his phrasing immaculately turned. On page 198 of the full score, he sings Verdi's alternative phrase at ''ei che le sfere'', something I've never heard before in the theatre or on disc. Both in ''La donna e mobile'' and the opening of the Quartet one might like a shade more variation in dynamics and tonal colour, just the things provided by La Scola on the EMI version, but then Alagna has the more sappy, brilliant voice and, above all, the slancio the part demands, and his singing reflects the Duke's wilful, libidinous nature. His is a most attractive contribution to the set.
At the end of the Duke-Gilda duet, Muti demands and gets the full cadenza written into the score. It is finely turned by Alagna, and by Rost, who offers an altogether lovely performance, ideal in almost every respect. With just the right weight of voice for the role, all her singing is full-toned and precisely articulated, and the tone itself is vibrant and tangy. She brings wonder to ''Caro nome'', sorrow to ''Tutte le feste'', where she very much recalls Cotrubas on the Giulini set, but Rost has the firmer tone, and this Gilda dies heart-rendingly. Rost hasn't the specifically Italian sound of Muti's Dessi (EMI), who also makes a most affecting Gilda, but Rost is the more accomplished technician. No wonder Muti cast her as Violetta last summer at Salzburg.
Bruson sang Rigoletto on the ten-year-old Sinopoli set. The years have been kind to his voice (he was 58 when this recording was made), but it has to be said that, especially in the first half of the opera, the vibrato is now disturbing when the (somewhat woolly) tone comes under pressure. Perhaps because he is afraid he cannot sustain a line at a lower dynamic level, he seems unwilling to sing at less than mezzo-forte. His remains a considered, eloquent interpretation through which courses a father's concern and anguish. But turn to Muti's Zancanaro (EMI) and you hear the exact voice for the jester, more biting, stronger, more flexible and varied in tone than Bruson's, at least the equal of Cappuccilli's on the Giulini set, indeed a Rigoletto in the Ruffo or Stracciari class, vocally speaking. I still regret that I so underestimated its specific qualities when first reviewing the EMI set. I now find little to fault – though only Gobbi for Serafin provides a range of colour and shades of meaning beyond all his rivals.
Kavrakos is a suitably sturdy, dour Sparafucile. After a blowzy start Pentcheva proves a seductive-sounding Maddalena, but these and the smaller roles are as well if not better cast on EMI. So that set is by no means put out of court by the new one; indeed it has become my outright recommendation among modern versions, just about superior to the Decca/Chailly – unless that is you want Giulini's appealingly sung, deeply thought-through version. But the new set does boast Alagna's superbly vital Duke and Rost's greatly appealing Gilda, which may sway you in its favour. Had the recording more presence it would run the EMI close and in any case it certainly deserves to be up among versions to be brought into the reckoning. Of course the Serafin will remain unrivalled for many, but its aged sound and the disfiguring cuts must be a serious drawback to anyone coming afresh to the work's discography.
AB