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

For many years, it was only Manon and Werther that were heard among Massenet's operas, but his reputation appears to be on the rise, and his champion, conductor Laurent Campellone, has recorded a good number of them. Ariane, from 1906, is one of the last to receive its recorded premiere. The Palazzetto Bru Zane label, specializing in obscure French opera, does a typically fine job here; the sound is superb, and the cast of singers, led by the soprano Amina Edris in the lead role, offers several revelations. In his later operas, Massenet often attempted to put a French stamp on the newer styles of the day, and here, it is Wagner who gets this treatment; the opera is built around a set of motifs de rappel (or "reminiscence motifs"), whose parentage in Wagner's leitmotifs is clear. This structure is shoehorned into the durable machinery of French opera. There are big entrance scenes, a pantomime, and plenty of spectacular stage machinery to go with the love triangle plot involving Ariane (Ariadne), Phèdre (Phaedra), and Theseus, who gets to take on the Minotaur in a grand scene with Wagnerian bass trumpet and bass trombone. Massenet's orchestration is impressive throughout. The work does not have the inevitability of truly great art, but it is in no way dull, and anyone with any interest in French opera should hear it for the singers alone; enough of those listeners have already weighed in and put the album on classical best-seller lists in the late summer of 2023.© James Manheim /TiVo

Jean-Philippe Rameau (1683-1764) left two very different versions of his tragédie en musique Zoroastre : the first, in 1749, suffered from cabals and the work was withdrawn from the repertory. Rameau gave it a thoroughgoing revision in 1756. At this time, he was at the height of his powers. Melody, harmony, orchestration and choral writing no longer held any secrets for him. Zoroastre brought still further innovation. For the first time, he dispensed with a prologue, and turned the overture into a philosophical "programme", the struggle between day and night, between good and evil. The 1749 version is entirely governed by avant-garde ideas; Zoroastre resembles Tamino in Die Zauberflöte, but two generations earlier. This disconcerted some of the audience: Zoroastre was a moral, social and philosophical opera. The 1749 version has never been revived in modern times. Alexis Kossenko takes up the challenge with zest, accompanied by an outstanding cast including Véronique Gens, Jodie Devos, Reinoud Van Mechelen, Mathias Vidal and Tassis Christoyannis. © Alpha Classics

With his agile technique, dramatic eloquence and rich palette of vocal colours, Jonathan Tetelman here inhabits a range of roles from the French and Italian repertoire. Recorded at the Auditorio Alfredo Kraus with the Orquesta Filarm¢nica de Gran Canaria and its Chief Conductor, Karel Mark Chichon, this collection shows the strong and powerful voice of the tenor in a selection of popular and rather unknown arias. © Deutsche Grammophon

Download not available

Composed on 1686 as part of the festivities organised by the Duc de Vendôme in honour of the Grand Dauphin, during the latter’s visit to his estate at the Château d’Anet in September of that year, Acis et Galatée is Lully’s last complete opera. His faithful librettist Quinault having retired from writing for the stage, he collaborated this time with the poet Campistron on a work that tells the story of the love between the sea-nymph Galatea and the shepherd Acis – a love threatened by the violence of the jealous cyclops Polyphemus. This opera, an undoubted dramatic success, gives the orchestra an important part, expressively evoking, for example, the giant’s cries of anger, the terror of the chorus, and the lovers’ hasty flight in Act III. It includes some magnificent pieces, including the final Passacaille, as well as inventive treasures, such as duet for hautes-contre (high tenors) “Ah! je succombe au tourment qui m'accable”, or the burlesque march that accompanies the entry of Polyphemus and his fellow cyclopes, conveying their uncouthness. But the loveliest pieces in the score are for Galatea: “Enfin, j’ai dissipé la crainte”, for instance, or “Que ne puis-je expirer après ce coup funeste?”. Lully died in March 1687, a few months after the première, leaving Achille et Polyxène unfinished. © Aparté

After leaving Tai Phong, Jean-Jacques Goldman's solo career gradually took off between 1981 and the release of Non Homologué, the best-selling French recording of 1986. He followed it with Entre Gris Clair et Gris Foncé in 1987, which sold even better. Part of this has to do with the ubiquitous presence of Goldman on French radio and MTV, but the rest is the sound on the recording, which balances rock dynamics with very stylized '80s production: glossy keyboards, heavily treated guitars, drum machines and programs, etc. And then there are the hooks, as evidenced in the first single "La Bas."© Thom Jurek /TiVo

With Les Indes galantes by Jean-Philippe Rameau, György Vashegyi – along with his Orfeo Orchestra and Purcell Choir – makes a further dazzling addition to their Glossa series of French dramatic masterpieces from the Baroque, and in the company of a luxurious line-up of vocal soloists. The version of this “ballet heroïque” – supplied with an anti-colonial, anti-clerical manifesto by librettist Louis Fuzelier – selected by Vashegyi is the 1761 revision, a mere decade or so before the irruption onto the Parisian musical scene of the likes of Gluck and Grétry. Rameau’s score had undergone frequent adjustments and improvements since its première a quarter of a century earlier, and the performing edition for this recording, prepared for the Rameau Opera Omnia by Sylvie Bouissou (who also provides a booklet essay here), offers a vision of this work which is more theatrical, fluid and concise than hitherto. Just in themselves, the names of Chantal Santon-Jeffery, Katherine Watson, Véronique Gens, Reinoud Van Mechelen, Jean-Sébastien Bou and Thomas Dolié (sharing out the dozen solo roles) augur well for a glorious exploration of the prologue and three entrées ahead. Recently, they have also, in conjunction with the Centre de Musique Baroque de Versailles, been working on questions of tempo and how to perform Rameau’s sequences as the composer intended. Vashegyi brings a consummate understanding of Rameau’s galante style to the proceedings, following two previous Ramellian Glossa outings (Naïs and Les Fêtes de Polymnie). © Glossa

Download not available

No one can accuse soprano Sandrine Piau of ever resting on her laurels, and with this 2023 release, she began, in her late fifties, a new partnership with accompanist David Kadouch. It is a bit hard to tell what the theme is supposed to be all about. Only some of the songs are "intimes," and many are not about voyages; Piau also notes that some of the songs are about "the theme of people being snatched away from the land of the living," not an especially intimate concept. Best just to listen and take the songs one by one, and this will reveal not only strong performances but organizational principles the performers don't mention. The first part of the program is devoted to German lieder, the second to French mélodies (before a final return to Schubert), with one piano piece in each set. Piau is arguably the greatest French interpreter of German song, and her Schubert Erlkönig, D. 328, has nothing trite about it as she inhabits but doesn't make opera characters out of the three characters in the piece. Another "theme" is that Piau really makes songs by women her own. There is a group by Clara Schumann, with an excellent setting of Heine's Lorelei that owes something to Erlkönig but is in no way a knockoff, and a fine group by Lili Boulanger that fits Piau beautifully. Sample Si tout ceci n'est qu'un pauvre rêve. Perhaps the Mignon songs do not fit her quite so well at this late date, but the heftier numbers by Liszt and Wolf more than make up for this. Yet another theme is that these are all songs that give the pianist a great deal to do, and Piau's interactions with Kadouch are sensitive and detailed enough to make one eagerly anticipate future collaborations. Superbly recorded by Alpha at the Teldex Studio in Berlin, the album made classical best-seller charts in early 2023.© James Manheim /TiVo

The wedding of France’s King Louis XIV and the Spanish Infanta, Maria Theresa of Austria, on 9 June 1660 was a celebration like no other. The final sealing of the peace between two Catholic monarchies that had been opposed for centuries, it saw the 21-year-old French monarch undertake a 13-month journey to cross and discover his kingdom – 3,200km, completed in 95 stages involving 15,000 people and 8,000 horses, culminating by wedding in pomp in Saint-Jean-de-Luz, in southwest France’s Basque country, near the Spanish border. Then when the newly married majesties made their entrance into Paris, the finest extracts from Cavalli’s opera Xerxes were performed in their honour at the Louvre, along with Lully’s accompanying ballets. And indeed music played a starring role throughout the festivities, with major artists (along with bands, and the king’s trumpets) also accompanying Louis on his journey. For instance there was the famous viol player, Nicolas Hotman, to whom Louis apparently listened attentively to for two hours one afternoon in Saint-Jean-de-Luz. Also Jean-Baptiste Lully. In other words, this was a large scale, multi-genre, multi-instrument, no-expenses-spared musical undertaking of mind-bogglingly sumptuous splendour. Also, though, one for which many of the final details have been lost in the mists of time. So for instance, while we know that the ‘royal delegation’ went to the church ‘accompanied by trumpet fanfares’, we don’t know which ones. Still, while it’s a shame that we don’t know more, Vincent Dumestre has come up with a musical feast as he’s set about creating his own sumptuous-sounding take on how it might have all sounded, taking us on a musical odyssey which begins at the church doors with Lully’s Sonneries pour les trompettes du Roi – a joyous union of regal trumpets, organ, woodwind and drums, played with elegant multi-timbred oomph by the musicians of Le Poème harmonique. Then we’re on to the entrance of the delegations, opening with a Prélude by Louis Couperin before moving into processional music by Lully for each house, the twinkle-toed number for the Spaniards being especially ear-pricking. Onwards and the marriage is to organ music by Guillaume-Gabriel Nivers (1632-1714). After which comes Lully’s “Motet for Peace”, Jubilate Deo, sung with crisp vibrancy and devotion – and indeed it’s a fine clutch of vocal soloists across the programme, in the shape of Ana Quintans, Victoire Bunel, David Tricou, Serge Goubioud, Virgile Ancely. However, when there’s only so long a review can be, I’m going to pick out just two further noteworthy moments. First, the presence on the programme of Jean Veillot (1600-1662), sous-maître of the Chapelle Royale at the time, and known to have been one of the composers involved in the musical celebrations of the peace agreement. His rapturously-received Te Deum, performed in Paris 1660, has been lost, but Dumestre has instead given us one of his few surviving works: the exuberantly lilting motet, O filii e filiae, which comes via a stunner of a performance, mellifluous solo voices rising and falling smoothly from the joyous choral texture, the singers’ bell-like sonority and lilting swing gorgeously mirroring the accompanying chiming brass lines. Then, Dumestre has rounded off his programme with an extract from an opera that not only do we know was definitely created for these wedding celebrations, but which also stands as the first extant record of an opera sung entirely in the Spanish language: Juan Hidalgo’s (1614-1685) Celos aun del aire matan, which premiered in Madrid in December 1660; and while this may have been the Spanish court’s studied emulation of what the French court was doing with Italian opera, the castanets and offbeat rhythms of merry ‘Dos zagalas venian’ leave us in no doubt as to the nationality. It also makes for a fabulous climax, with its singingly half speaking and laughing solo voices, its lustily rhythmic chorus, and strumming theorbo accompaniment with dancing brass interjections. I say it again, this is a musical feast. Hugely recommended. © Charlotte Gardner/Qobuz