This Marriage of Figaro is perhaps the most exciting to happen for quite some time. The maestro in charge is Yannick Nézet-Séguin, who directs the Chamber Orchestra of Europe and a star-studded roster of singers specially selected for the occasion. The idea for this recording came out of the numerous modern reinterpretations of the piece, coupled with the aim to recreate the sounds of the past. As such, when you listen to the piece, it's at once powerfully modern yet "obvious". The recitativos are conceived musically rather than theatrically (surely a plus on an audio recording!) while the recording itself took place at a concert in Baden-Baden in 2015, which helps the performance move along tremendously and flow between each piece. A real gem. 

In 2006, to celebrate the 250th anniversary of the composer's birth, the Salzburg Festival set itself the task of producing all 22 of Mozart's operas, and this recording of highlights from Le nozze di Figaro is a result of a live performance. Nikolaus Harnoncourt's reading of the score is marvelously nuanced; it's clear that the performance reflects a lifetime of living with and performing the opera. His dramatic pace tends toward briskness, which works well in a work as wordy as this. He's especially skillful at bringing out the instrumental colors of the score, particularly of the winds and timpani; he makes the listener especially aware of the inventiveness, cleverness, and subtlety of Mozart's orchestration. The Vienna Philharmonic and Konzertvereinigung Wiener Staatsopernchor perform with finesse, warmth, and sensitivity to the opera's poignancy and humor. The singers are both dramatically and vocally superb; this is probably as close to a dream cast for the opera as one is likely to get. Ildebrando D'Arcangelo and Anna Netrebko are completely winning as Figaro and Susanna, and there's real chemistry between them. D'Arcangelo is an embodiment of Mediterranean masculinity; his dark and supple baritone is in the service of a portrayal that's both ferociously impetuous and goofily playful, without ever compromising his dignity. Netrebko is adorably girlish, but her Susanna is obviously the most grounded and grown-up character in the opera. Her voice is silken, velvety, and infinitely expressive. Bo Skovhus' Count is a genuinely creepy character, alternating between furtiveness and bluster, but his tone is consistently round and robust. Dorothea Röschmann's large soprano is incisive and richly textured. She brings a deep sense of resignation and anger to the to Countess; at the opera's end there's little assurance that she will find joy with the Count again. Christine Schäfer's Cherubino is jaw-droppingly assured; she spins out her lines with abandon and exquisite musicality. As Basilio, Patrick Henckens manages to sound lyrical and full-bodied, and at the same time convey his character's unctuousness. Franz-Josef Selig's Bartolo is splendidly gruff and Marie McLaughlin is hilarious as Marcellina, but her voice seems a little inflexible. The sound is remarkably fine for a live recording; it's bright and clear, as well as warm and intimate, and the singers' volume levels are steady despite their movement around the stage.© TiVo

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Backed by the Sun King despite a lukewarm audience reception at first, Lully's Atys (1676) went on to become one of the composer's most successful operas, with revivals at French court theaters as late as 1753. In modern times, however, it is a considerably rarer item due to the massive forces and time required. Christophe Rousset was in the pit as harpsichordist when conductor William Christie gave the first modern revival of the work in the late '80s. That experience marks this 2024 release, which made classical best-seller lists at the beginning of that year. That is not common for a hefty five-act Baroque opera, but even a bit of sampling will confirm why it happened: Rousset, from the keyboard, brings tremendous energy to the opera. He pushes the tempo in the numerous dances and entrance numbers, and the musicians of Les Talens Lyriques and the singers of the Choeur du Chambre de Namur, all of whom have worked closely with Rousset in the past, keep right up. The singers in the solo roles are all fine; haut-contre Reinoud Van Mechelen in the title role and Ambroisine Bré as the goddess Cybèle, who sets the tragic plot in motion, are standouts. The sound from the increasingly engineering-expert Château de Versailles label is exceptionally clear in complex textures, and the sensuous cover art (representing, it is true, not the Roman mythological figure of Atys but Hippomène and Atalante) is a bonus. In the end, this is Rousset's Atys, and that is a very good thing.© James Manheim /TiVo

Without any hesitation, we had to award a Qobuzissime to L'Heure bleue, the second album by Quatuor Zahir.  Because in the classical world, the saxophone quartet is still too rare a format on both record and on stage.  Because the impressionist works of Debussy, Ravel, Poulenc, and Boulanger dazzle us, as do the creations of Fabien Waksman and Graciane Finzi. Because of the refinement and sophistication of these arrangements. Because of the impeccable sound recording—always a highlight of the Aparté label.  Because of the beauty of the title, "L'Heure Bleue," which sums up the driving idea behind this powerful record. “This ephemeral moment at the crossroads of day and night—such could be the dream setting for this new opus. An invitation to a dreamlike journey," explain the members of the quartet—Guillaume Berceau, Etienne Boussard, Florent Louman, and Joakim Cielsa. Five years after their debut, the quartet took the time to construct this recital piece by piece, with the patience of goldsmiths or those who have a taste for beauty and precision of gesture. Like a landscape with changing colors and moods—from the lively (Debussy's "Quant j'ai ouy le tabourin") and languorous (Ravel's "Pavane pour une infante défunte"), to the playfulness of the last of Boulanger's Trois Pièces—in L'Heure bleue we find the gentle reminiscence of a forgotten or fantasized era. Whether the works interpreted here are in their original form or arranged, it becomes almost impossible to distinguish between the two categories, as each track is so immediately appealing. The Zahirs interweave their sublime timbres with consummate artistry, with all the interpretations becoming essentials. © Pierre Lamy/Qobuz

Hubert Parry's Scenes from Shelley's Prometheus Unbound, from 1880, here receives its world-recorded premiere. Perhaps recording companies thought there wouldn't be much of a market for a heavy 19th century choral work with, it must be said, a ponderous text by Percy Bysshe Shelley (Prometheus was a play intended to be read, not performed, just to give an idea). How wrong they were. This release made classical best-seller lists in the summer of 2023, and it is altogether enjoyable. At the time, Parry was under the spell of Wagner, whom he traveled to Bayreuth to meet. That influence certainly shows up in Scenes from Shelley's Prometheus Unbound, with its basically declamatory text, partly through-composed music, wind-and-brass-heavy orchestration, and splashes of chromaticism. Yet what is remarkable is that the music does not come off as an imitation of Wagner at all. Rather, it uses elements of his style to match a specific kind of English literary text. The work gradually disappeared, but it would be surprising if Elgar, whom it clearly prefigures, did not know it well. The performances here are luminous, with William Vann using the lighter-than-expected London Mozart Players to create transparent textures against which he can set the substantial voices of Sarah Fox, Sarah Connolly, and other soloists. Parry did write some shorter pieces that remain in the repertory; one of these, Blest Pair of Sirens, is included here as a finale. However, the Scenes from Shelley's Prometheus Unbound are the main news here, and this performance, showing how this kind of thing should be done, may generate a new life for the work. © James Manheim /TiVo

Beyond the neglect of French Baroque music in general, it is a bit hard to understand why composer Pancrace Royer was almost completely unknown until Christophe Rousset came along to champion him, first in harpsichord music and now, with these suites of music drawn from operas, in orchestral music. In the 18th century, Royer was quite well known and admired among others by Rameau, whose music he helped along considerably. Royer certainly inhabited Rameau's stylistic world, but from the evidence here, his music is distinctive and merits the adjective "surprising" that Rousset has attached to it. It is colorful, given to unexpected turns of harmony, and vivid in its evocation of the exotic scenes of French opera. Sample the "Air pour les turcs" ("Air for the Turks") from Zaïde, reine de Grenade, with its crackling percussion. Royer challenged his orchestra with virtuoso ensemble writing in the likes of the "Premier et second tambourins" from Almasis, and Rousset and Les Talens Lyriques step up with precise, vigorous readings that one imagines would have made the composer overjoyed. The inclusion of two alternate versions for movements from Zaïde is also unusual and gives insight into the compositional thinking of the day. Essential for specialists and enthusiasts interested in the French Baroque, this album is a lot of fun for anyone, with only overdone church sound detracting from the overall effect. © James Manheim /TiVo