
Last weekend at the Caramoor Festival, Maestro Will Crutchfield presided over a grand giornata verdiana. The highlight was a complete performance of La traviata as it might have been given during Verdi's lifetime: uncut, with tasteful, expressive ornaments for the second verses of arias and cabalettas.
The other superb offerings included a zesty program of Verdi songs performed by pianist Rachelle Jonck and apprentice singers (Albert Lee, an elegant tenor, is one to look out for); a chewy lecture by Gary Moulsdale about prostitution and invention in the biography of Marie Duplessis, the Parisian prostitute who inspired Dumas' La Dame aux camélias; Crutchfield's lecture on Verdi's singers, featuring recordings by artists who worked with Verdi; and a concert performance of the 1853 version of the Violetta-Germont duet.
Read all about it in the Newsday article by vilaine fille alter ego Marion Lignana Rosenberg: Come to Papa: Verdi is ripe for rediscovery.
Some of the recordings that Crutchfield offered were heart-stopping. There was a rare private cylinder (which lives at Y*le) of Jean-Baptiste Faure, the first Rodrigue in Don Carlos. There was Victor Maurel (who created Iago, Falstaff, the title role in the revised Simon Boccanegra, and Tonio in Leoncavallo's Pagliacci) in his famous recording of "Quand'ero paggio" from Falstaff (complete with tris and claque!) and in Paladilhe's "Mandolinata," which Crutchfield rightly singled out for its inimitable swagger.
We also heard Adelina Patti, an artist for whom Verdi had the utmost admiration, in Tosti's "Serenata." (My source identifies this as the same 1906 recording played at Caramoor, but I'm not so sure. I *think* I remember certain musical details differently.) In any event, Patti may have been past her prime in 1906, but still: Revel in her feather-light ornaments, pearly tone, verve, velvety attacks…
Verdi, often chary of praise, described Patti as:
a perfect blend of singer and actress… a born artist in every sense of the word. When I heard her for the first time (she was 18) in London I was astounded not only by her marvellous performance but also by several coups de scène which revealed a great actress. I recall her chaste and modest bearing when in La sonnambula she lay on the soldier's bed, and how in Don Giovanni she left the libertine's room, defiled. I recall a certain gesture of hers during Don Bartolo's aria in Il barbiere, and most of all I recall her in the recitative which precedes the quartet in Rigoletto, when her father points out her lover in the tavern and says "And you still love him?", and she replies "I love him." Words cannot express the sublime effect of these words, when sung by her…
Lovely Georgia Jarman was a remarkable Violetta in the complete Traviata. I did not sense that any part of this long, killing role seriously tested her. Jarman is a coltish young artist with a show-stopping presence; what she lacks for now is the inward, sickly quality that a great Violetta needs. However, she seems to have the soul and the smarts to get there. Do give a listen over at Jarman's website—keeping in mind that none of the recordings there, in my opinion, rises to the level of her Violetta.
A few links related to my Newsday article:
Gustavo III (the ur-Un ballo in maschera)
Opera Rara's Verdi Originals (Macbeth, Les Vepres Siciliennes, Simon Boccanegra, La forza del destino; Don Carlos is a future release)
The now-classic Gardiner recording of the Messa da Requiem, plus the Messa per Rossini for which Verdi composed the "Libera me"
Daniel Schmid's marvelous documentary Tosca's Kiss
vilaine fille's December 2004 salute to the great Philip Gossett
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