Opera rara's mission is to help people discover unknown or forgotten works: this is indeed the case with this opera, which we are listening to now for the first time in almost two centuries. When his Proscritto was premiered in January 1842, Salverio Mercadante, a contemporary and competitor of Donizetti and Bellini, was the director of the Naples opera house and at the height of his fame. He was, however, on the way to being overshadowed by the young Verdi whose first major success, Nabucco, was to take place only a few months later.The libretto, penned by the prolific Salvadore Camarano, is taken from Le Proscrit (1839), a French drama by Frédéric Soulié and Timothée Dehay and transposed into 17th century England. Malvina Douglas is about to marry Arturo Murray, a Cromwell supporter, and is being walked down the aisle by her brother, Odoardo Douglas. Her former husband, the royalist Giorgio Argyll, was banished and had been declared dead. But now he’s mysteriously reappeared... causing anguish and doubt for the poor woman. At the end of a series of particularly intense duets, it all ends very badly, Mercadante’s discovery of the French Grand Opera prompted him to modify his style; he veered towards dramatic intensity and enriched orchestration... As a result, he was accused of being a "German style impersonator"; consequently, his opera received a frosty reception and was removed from the repertoire. Nevertheless, today we are rediscovering a piece of work which seduces with its melodic inventiveness, beautiful orchestral textures, intense duets and grand concertati finales, which feature amongst the best from this period.This resurrection is being sustained by some magnificent artists; primarily Carlo Rizzi, the conductor who enthusiastically unearthed the manuscript and brought it back to life by heading up the Britten Sinfonia and the Opera Rara Chorus. The great Mexican tenor Ramon Vargas brings his exceptional bel-canto elegance to the role of Giorgio, but also a sense of melancholy and intensity which make him a great romantic. His rival, Arturo, is the Peruvian tenor Ivan Ayon-Rivas, winner of the Operalia award in 2021. The warm timbre of the mezzo-soprano Irene Roberts is ideally suited to the tortured heroine Alvina, which delights us while we savour the sumptuous bass of contralto Elizabeth DeShong. © Julia Le Brun/Qobuz

For his last season at the helm of the Opéra de Bordeaux, Marc Minkowski—always keen to conduct forgotten works which have, in some way, marked the history of music—sets his sights on Robert le Diable, Giacomo Meyerbeer's opera which was a true social phenomenon in 19th century France. The Palazzetto Bru Zane - Centre de musique romantique française has followed suit by officially publishing this concert version, which also features some excellent vocal soloists. Admired by Balzac, Sand and Dumas, this ‘grand opéra à la française’ (great French opera) faded into obscurity after the First World War. Its creator became a sort of pariah – one met with both condescension and mockery. With its ‘seductive and haunting melodies’ (Alexandre Dratwicki), it’s nevertheless a flamboyant work that greatly inspired his contemporaries, such as Verdi, who referred to it in La Traviata. The extraordinary impact of Robert le Diable was such that it was performed a great many times on every continent. A true one-man band, Marc Minkowski has invested himself entirely in this undertaking, learning this vast score practically by heart and conducting it with his usual power and conviction. The international cast is full of surprises thanks to their deep understanding of the work and the protagonists’ fantastic pronunciation. This new release, to the credit of the Bru Zane label, revitalises our knowledge of this work that’s scarcely mentioned in specialised dictionaries. © François Hudry/Qobuz

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. 

This is a Barbiere "di qualità, di qualità": in fact, of very great quality indeed, from Deutsche Grammophon. Recorded in London in the summer of 1971, it is one of the first meetings of Claudio Abbado and the London Symphony Orchestra. It is also the first of Alberto Zedda's philological editions of Rossini's works, whose scores have been covered over by inherited errors for over a century. Getting rid of the additions which have, quite wrongly, become traditional, means restoring certain interruptions and the fine instrumentation of the period; and above all, singing and playing without exaggerations, thanks to an innate sense for the theatre. It's a spot of spring cleaning which has restored the youth of the 24-year-old composer's masterpiece. Bravo, signor barbiere, ma bravo! It is a dream record, with singers who are well-versed in the repertoire. Everyone is right where they need to be, from Teresa Berganza's wiley and cheeky Rosina, to the refined and hard-working Figaro played by Hermann Prey, via Luigi Alva's frivolous Count and the utterly ridiculous Basilio played by the outrageous Paolo Montarsolo. We're amused by their antics, as we admire the well-oiled and unstoppable machine of Rossini's theatre, under the unceasingly inventive and thrilling baton of Claudio Abbado. © François Hudry/Qobuz

Studio recordings of full operas are not so common anymore, but among the few positive side effects of the COVID-19 pandemic was that it did spawn several. This one sounds a bit buttoned-up, perhaps because of the restrictions of the time; the album was made in the summer of 2021, and the contributions of the Transylvania State Choir were downloaded from afar (actually, this would be hard to tell by listening), but there is a lot that is distinctive about the performance of this Verdi opera, whose tragicomic quality has made it a special favorite in modern times. Verdi moved the action from Sweden to Boston to circumvent a censorship restriction; nowadays, the Swedish setting is generally preferred, but the curious American colonial setting somehow seems to fit the mixture of elements in the opera, loading political intrigue onto the old comic trope of the masked ball. The biggest news is the presence of tenor Freddie De Tommaso in the lead role of Riccardo. He has been bubbling under the surface of the opera scene, and with this recording, he takes a major step into the spotlight. Consider one of his big numbers, like "Forse la soglia attinse" in Act III, for an idea of why his performance is bringing to mind some of the greats who have recorded this opera. He is ably backed by a strong cast, including the rougher but powerfully dramatic Lester Lynch as Renato, making a compelling contrast with De Tommaso and Saioa Hernández as Amelia. This vocally strong Un ballo in maschera is well worth the attention of Verdi lovers.© James Manheim /TiVo

This recording sees Harry Bicket continue his long love affair with Handel, which began back in 1996 at the Glyndebourne Festival when he conducted Theodora, produced by Peter Sellars. Here, Harry Bicket and the musicians from The English Concert tackle the oratorio La Resurrezione, following their recording of Rodelinda which was incredibly well-received by critics in 2021. With a well-knit team of excellent soloists in the ensemble, Bicket delivers a colourful interpretation of Handel’s work with sharp rhythms and beautiful instrumental tones.Created in 1708 at the Palazzo Bonelli (now the Palazzo Valentini) in Rome, under led by Corelli, La Resurrezione caused a scandal when Pope Clement XI sent a stern admonition to young Handel's patron, Marquis Francesco Maria Ruspoli, for having a woman (!) sing in a publicly performed religious work. The pope was clearly unable to understand the innovative nature of this musical feat.Through a libretto that superimposes two events taking place on the evening of Good Friday and Easter morning, Handel writes touching and dramatic scenes for an orchestral ensemble of 40 musicians, which was very large for the time. It also required two castrati male vocalists and the aforementioned soprano who was condemned by the Church. With his use of rare and diverse instruments, the young German composer gave his orchestra warm, powerful tones right from the outsight. © François Hudry/Qobuz

The idea is interesting on the face of it: the Duke of Ferrara, at his court in the late 16th century, maintained a "concerto segreto," secret concerts of three singers who also accompanied themselves on instruments. The three singers of La Néréide have performed a program based on this repertory, reproducing the original circumstances as far as possible. It is perhaps a trifle less effective on a recording, where they employ other instrumentalists for accompaniment, but this almost unknown repertory holds plenty of interest in itself. The music on the album is mostly by the melodiously named Luzzasco Luzzaschi, the Duke's court composer, with other works by his contemporary Luca Marenzio and the slightly later Claudio Monteverdi and Francesca Caccini (who makes the cut because her opera La liberazione di Ruggiero dall'isola di Alcina, the first opera by a woman, contains an excerpt calls "Le tre sirene"). This was progressive music for the time, including some of the sharp dissonances better known in the writing of Carlo Gesualdo and also the emerging texture in which melody was accompanied by a continuo. Thus, La Néréide captures the swirl of influences out of which early opera emerged, framing them in a vivid scene that will be unfamiliar, like the music in general, to most listeners. The three women have a strong sense of ensemble, and the engineering from the small Notre-Dame-des-Centeilles chapel suggests the music's original surroundings. A really interesting release for those fascinated by the late Renaissance. © James Manheim /TiVo

This 2023 release is way outside the usual zone for the ensemble Les Arts Florissants and director Paul Agnew, who have specialized largely in the French Baroque. The booklet even lists an Italian language coach, but it is quite worthwhile, for these Italian-language madrigals by Schütz are sparsely recorded. They were published in 1611 while Schütz was studying in Venice with Giovanni Gabrieli, and they reflect his mastery of the polyphonic Italian madrigal style. There are some splashes of chromaticism, but nothing resembling the music of Gesualdo, Marenzio, or the other late Italian madrigalists. Instead, the model is the early madrigal books of Monteverdi, which would have been very much in the air while Schütz was there. The music reflects the texts in great detail, which was one of the straws in the wind pointing toward the emergent operatic styles, and there is a certain dramatic quality that seems to prefigure the mature Schütz. This is captured well by Les Arts Florissants, essentially opera specialists, and while there is a feel suggesting that the musicians are coming to this tradition from the outside, the performances hold the listener's attention. The Philharmonie in Paris is not really the right venue for this music and gives it a remote sound, but this is, nonetheless, a valuable addition to the Schütz discography.© James Manheim /TiVo

Beware the pen of a critic. When in 1720 an arrangement of Domenico Scarlatti’s 1714 opera Amor d’un’Ombra e Gelosia d’un’aura arrived at the King’s Theatre, Haymarket, Charles Burney’s pen was gently damning. “Though there were many new pleasing passages and effects”, proclaimed London’s esteemed writer on all things musical, “those acquainted with the original and happy freaks of this composer in his harpsichord music, would be surprised at the sobriety and almost dullness of the songs”; and over the ensuing centuries, critical opinion has largely persisted with the line that Scarlatti’s best work is to be found not among his vocal or instrumental works, but instead among the 555 harpsichord sonatas he wrote for the Portuguese Queen of Spain, María Bárbara. Now though, here is a multi-genre Scarlatti programme from Bertrand Cuiller and his period instrument ensemble Le Caravansérail, its aim to enable the listener to reach his or her own conclusion as to Scarlatti’s wider worth. Although with repertoire and performances as fine as these, it’s perfectly clear which side Cuiller wants us to come down upon. Not least he opens with a piece of shameless wooing: the famous Sonata in G major, K. 144, but heard not on harpsichord but instead from harpist from Bérengère Sardin in a performance of melting warm fragility and hope-filled nobility. Then with that still ringing in your ears comes one of the few surviving examples of Scarlatti’s sacred music, the Stabat Mater in C minor with its rich, ten-voice texture supported by basso continuo accompaniment alone; and instantly your ears are locking on to that continuo section’s harp-reminiscent archlute, and thus becoming extra-alive to the accompaniment’s poeticism, even as the clear-toned voices unfurl over it and entwine around each other, themselves bringing definition and lucidity to even the score’s most lavishly contrapuntal vocal writing. Onwards and there’s a D minor instrumental feast: violinist Leila Schayegh’s sombre, expressive reading of the Sonata, K. 90, one of a few harpsichord sonatas that appears to present the option of choosing a solo instrument on the melodic line; then, following a nimbly urgent ensemble reading of Charles Avison’s “concerto grosso” transcription of another harpsichord sonata, Cuiller himself bringing gossamer-weight lyricism to Harpsichord Sonata, K. 213. As for the secular vocal works, the numbers from Amor d’un’Ombra e Gelosia d’un’aura more than hold their own here, thanks to soprano Emmanuelle de Negri and countertenor Paul-Antoine Bénos-Djian’s committed performances, while an album highlight is the lilting melancholic expression brought by de Negri to ”Pur nel sonno almen tal’ora vien colei” from the Cantata “Pur nel sonno almen” – composed to a Metastasio poem that appears to have been given to Scarlatti by star countertenor Farinelli, and thus inevitably sounding like a composer inspired to give his best. In short, in the case of Cuiller versus Burney, it’s a win for Cuiller. Also, indeed, for Scarlatti. © Charlotte Gardner/Qobuz

At first glance, one might confuse the virtuoso cellist Angelina Kobekina’s latest album, Venice, as a classical “greatest hits” collection—a packaging of snippets taken from previous recordings released when a record company’s star artist hasn’t recorded enough fresh material. This recording is anything but that. Venice is a strikingly original and personal concept with Kobekina’s love for the titular city as the underlying theme. Kobekina’s original compositions are solo cello pieces, while those of Bach, Britten, Monteverdi, and Vivaldi feature her unique accompaniments. Some depart significantly from the originals, such as a 20th-Century jazz arrangement of a Vivaldi concerto. While some traditionally-minded classical listeners may object to the recomposing of works by the old masters, what must be kept in mind is that Venice is not the typical classical release in recital format, but a creation in which the artist takes the listener along on her own highly intimate journey. Some listeners may find themselves getting lost but the wordy “roadmap” provided in the booklet or even the notes by Kobekina herself may likely be of little assistance.  Rather than trying to figure out exactly what the artist is expressing, the best approach is to listen to Venice from beginning to end, with no interruptions or preconceived notions. Listeners may love it or hate it, but one thing on which all may agree: Anastasia Kobekina is an extraordinary cellist, artist, and musician. ©Anthony Fountain/Qobuz

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

Handel's Alcina, a work in the vocally virtuosic opera seria genre from 1735, returned to opera stages after a revival by Joan Sutherland in 1960, but recordings of it are not abundant. This is partly because it is a very visual work, with dances and sorcery special effects that don't come through on a recording. Another reason is that it contains some of Handel's most strenuous vocal writing, requiring a trio of top-notch female singers. The latter problem is solved in this 2024 release by Les Musiciens du Louvre and its director Marc Minkowski, who keep the massive, three-and-a-quarter-hour spectacle moving with tough, resolute playing. The title role is sung by mezzo-soprano Magdalena Kožená (Lady Rattle for peerage freaks), a Handel specialist of long standing who has absolutely outdone herself here in one of the big Handel roles that exploits her entire range, both physically and emotionally. The love-triangle (or rectangle) plot, however, requires other singers who can stand up to the star, and this the opera receives in Erin Morley as Alcina's sister, Morgana, and Elizabeth DeShong as Bradamente, a fiancée disguised as her own brother. Though the plot is over-intricate, the emotional threads remain clear in this performance, and the engineering from PentaTone Classics is top-notch. This release made classical best-seller charts in early 2024, something not often accomplished by hefty Handel opera recordings.© James Manheim /TiVo

Few will dispute George Friderick Handel being one of the most accomplished composers of the Classical era, but it should also be noted he possessed to an equal degree, a perhaps less-than-esteemed-but-vital gift in those pre-copyright days, the art of self-promotion. Even in the early stages of his career Handel was well-aware of his prodigious talent and sought to promote it to the utmost. It was that ambition which led the young composer in 1706 to Florence, at the behest of one of the Medicis, to assist in establishing the opera in that city. Handel later decamped for Rome where, his reputation preceding him, he quickly made the acquaintance of leading patrons of the arts among the nobility and upper echelons of the Catholic Church, leading to many commissions.One of those commissions came from Cardinal Carlo Colonna for the major work on this recording, a setting of the Psalm, 109 in the Vulgate, 110 in the King James, Dixit Dominus (The Lord said unto my Lord). Regardless of the composer’s young age of 22, it is the work of a mature master. Even more remarkable, Handel, though from a strict and observant Lutheran upbringing, was able to work with his Catholic patrons, setting a Latin text suitable for use in Catholic worship.There are many recordings of Handel’s Dixit Dominus and this is certainly one of the finest, with brilliant performances by soloists, orchestra, and chorus. Conductor Bart Van Reyn’s tempos are on the sprightly side, but never seem excessive or rushed. There is a wonderful freshness and sparkle to this reading, both in performance and the superb high-resolution sound. Particular praise must be made of the three soloists, whose virtuosity and sensitivity to the text are exemplary.A welcome bonus is a much lesser-known masterpiece by a much lesser-known composer, Giovanni Battista Ferrandini: his Marian cantata (mistakenly attributed until recently to Handel), Il pianto di Maria. In the excellent program notes, Aurélie Walschaert writes this lament differs from earlier ones modeled after the medieval text Stabat Mater, where a narrator describes the sorrows of Mary. Most of the text in this composition is in the first-person, with Mary herself describing the sorrows she is witnessing, thus deepening even further the emotion. A prize should go to mezzo-soprano Sophie Rennert, whose astonishingly empathetic delivery of the text will move any listener, whatever their religion. This is a must for every classical library.  © Anthony Fountain/Qobuz

In the visual arts, anamorphosis is a technical term for a distorted image that changes appearance with an altered perspective, usually revealed through projection or as seen through a special lens. As used in the context of this 2019 release by Vincent Dumestre and Le Poème Harmonique, the word has a somewhat ambiguous musical meaning, suggesting the duality of sacred and secular characteristics that became a hallmark of early Baroque music. This metaphorical sense of anamorphosis is illustrated by the Miserere of Gregorio Allegri, which was originally composed as an austere homophonic setting of Psalm 50, as approved by the Catholic Church after the Council of Trent, but was reworked over time through elaborate embellishments and expressive dissonances that emphasized the emotional power of certain words. Another feature of anamorphosis in Baroque music was the use of operatic material adapted to the needs of the Counter-Reformation, which originated in the Renaissance parody masses, where popular songs were used side-by-side with Gregorian chants as cantus firmi. A later example of this is the contrafactum Pascha Concelebranda of Ambrosius Profe, which was based on a madrigal by Claudio Monteverdi. The double meanings behind these pieces may be hard for modern listeners to discern, though the passionate singing and vibrant instrumental accompaniment of Le Poème Harmonique go far to illuminate the mysteries of the program. Alpha recorded this disc at a studio in Baume-les-Messieurs, France, so the sound is close-up and clean, all the better to hear the plangent cross-relations and ornamented lines with immediacy and clarity.© TiVo