In 1743, two years before Rameau’s Platée, Boismortier created an extraordinarily modern and madcap "comic ballet", Don Quichotte chez la Duchesse. As the exuberant plotunfurls, Cervantes’ hero encounters monsters, enchanters, princesses and people from Japan, making for plenty of offbeat and audacious dances and choruses. Musical beautyrubs shoulders with satirical and irreverent comedy. A choice work for Hervé Niquet, who leads his Concert Spirituel with unparalleled energy! © Château de Versailles Spectacles

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

Over the years, the Verbier Festival has earned a global reputation for bringin together the world’s biggest stars and promising young artists. Recently, the Swiss festival joined forces with Deutsche Grammophon and announced the launch of the Verbier Festival Gold label, which intends to publish the festivals vast archives at a rate of one publication per month. After Verdi’s Requiem conducted by Gianandrea Noseda and an album dedicated to pianist Yuja Wang, here we have Bryn Terfel’s recital which he performed in the Alps with pianist Llyr in 2011.In the nineteenth century, the beautiful Swiss mountains inspired the imaginations of numerous writers, painters and musicians. A regular at this festival, Bryn Terfel focused his recital programme on a small number of Schubert Lieder, including the sumptuous Liebesbotschaft (“Love message”), as well as Schumann’s great Liederkreis, Op. 39. It was fitting that he performed this with the Swiss Alps as a backdrop.The Welsh baritone had already recorded the vast Schumann cycle for DG with Malcom Martineau in 1999, and his vocals are equally breath-taking in this Verbier recording. His sensational diction and phrasing are coupled with beautiful expression. Something that really stands out on this recording is the increased power in his vocals, likely a result of the audience’s support and his recent involvement with Wagnerian operas that no doubt helped expand and strengthen his bass tone. Somewhat curiously, this high-level recital continued with Jacques Ibert’s Chansons de Don Quichotte and the Five Shakespeare Songs by British composer Roger Quilter. Bryn Terfel and his pianist generously provided numerous encore performances, appeasing the insatiable audience that kept asking for more. © François Hudry/Qobuz

It's one of those fairy stories that the world of lyrical music likes to keep secret. Still an unknown and barely emerged from the La Scala Lyrical Academy, Georgian mezzo-soprano Anita Rachvelishvili was given the title role in Carmen by Baremboim, alongside Jonas Kaufman: an international career seemed to beckon for the young singer. And so here we will hear some of opera's great tunes, including, of course, the hits from Carmen, but also the two great arias from Samson et Dalila by Saint-Saëns, a pair from Verdi, a touch of Mascagni, some Rimski – less-frequently performed, it is true – and a rarity from his compatriot Dimitri Arakishvili (1873-1953) whose style is solidly anchored in the Russia of his day, with several, probably regional, twists. Since 2009, she has sung Carmen's role around three hundred times, and we can only hope that she never gets bogged down in it - and takes on Santuzza, Eboli, Dalil: in other words, the great characters of the dramatic mezzo repertoire. © SM/Qobuz

Leonard Slatkin is an exceptionally versatile conductor, but it is perhaps in French repertoire of the 19th and 20th centuries that he feels most comfortable. The singers in Ravel's exquisitely formed little comic opera L'Heure espagnole, complete with cheating lovers hidden inside grandfather's clocks carried up and down stairs, are all entirely appropriate and admirably clear, but it is really Slatkin who's the star here, right from the "Introduction" that's so artfully linked to what follows. Ravel here cultivates a kind of updated accompanied recitative, well matched to his stated goal of reviving the old tradition of Italian opera buffa. The dialogue seems straightforward, but it is subtly and considerably heightened by the music in ways that may be clear to the listener only in retrospect. Sample the sly "Salut à la belle Horlogère!" (track eight) for a taste of how Slatkin holds the entire scene, orchestra and singing of mezzo-soprano Isabelle Druet, in the palm of his hand, and of the light sexiness in the opera embodied in the afternoon-delight-seeking Concepción. A bonus is the set of three Don Quichotte à Dulcinée songs, the last work Ravel completed. Highly recommended and absolutely delightful. © TiVo

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

Slipknot set out to construct the ultimate metal music flamethrower, ever since their genesis in a Des Moines, IA, basement. But they also deployed an agitprop campaign of masks, smocks, and bar codes that helped scare parents (like good metal should) and transform Slipknot fans into faithful "maggots." The Midwestern origin of all this craziness is genius, as the band's marrow-draining metal and twisted, fibrous mythology is antithetical to the region's milquetoast rep. Still, after the gothic nausea of 2001's Iowa, Slipknot's vitality dissipated in clouds of gaseous hype and individual indulgence. Had they grown fat on their thrones? Probably. But the layoff only makes Vol. 3: The Subliminal Verses scream louder. Working with famously bearded helmer Rick Rubin -- aka He Who Smites Bullsh*t -- Slipknot pour the shrill accessibility of their self-titled debut down Iowa's dark sieve, and the result is flinty, angry, and rewardingly restless. Vol. 3 shares its lyrical themes of anger, disaffection, and psychosis with most of Slipknot's nu-metal peers. Lines like "I've screamed until my veins collapsed" and "Push my fingers into my eyes/It's the only thing that slowly stops the ache" (from the otherwise strong "Duality") aren't unique to this cult. But unlike so many, the band's sound rarely disassembles into genre building blocks: riff + glowering vocal + throaty chorus = Ozfest acceptance. What makes Vol. 3 tick is the dedication to making it a Slipknot album, and not just another flashy alt-metal billboard. The seething anger and preoccupation with pain is valid because it's componential to the group's uniquely branded havoc. "Blister Exists," "Three Nil," and "Opium of the People" are all standouts, strafing soft underbellies with rhythmic (occasionally melodic) vocals, stuttering, quadruple-helix percussion, and muted grindcore guitar. Rubin is integral to the album's power -- his cataclysmic vocal filters and arrays of unidentifiable squiggle and squelch unite Vol. 3's various portions in wildly different ways. Just when the meditative "Circles" threatens to keel over from melodrama, in sputters strings of damaged electronics and percussion to lead it into "Welcome," which sounds like Helmet covering Relapse Records' entire catalog at once. Later, another counterpoint is offered, when the swift boot kicks of "Pulse of the Maggots" and "Before I Forget" separate "Vermilion"'s gothic and acoustic parts. Vol. 3: The Subliminal Verses doesn't feel like Slipknot's final statement. It's a satisfying, carefully crafted representation of their career to date. But there's a sense that whatever Slipknot do next might be their ultimate broadcast to the faithful.© Johnny Loftus /TiVo

Ever since Peter Shaffer's play Amadeus and the subsequent film by Milos Forman, the operas of Mozart's rival Antonio Salieri have enjoyed a revival: historians determined that not only did Salieri not poison Mozart, he admired him, and Mozart at least respected the older Italian. Indeed, Les Horaces (1786) represents several accomplishments that were not on Mozart's résumé: it is a full-scale French opera, and its recitatives are orchestrally accompanied and contribute elegantly to the action. Berlioz, always an astute critic, numbered himself among the admirers of Salieri's French operas of the 1780s; this one was not as successful as the others, but that could have been due to any number of factors. The plot deals with a woman, Camille, whose romantic life is caught between factions in a war in early Roman times, and Rousset's live reading here benefits from a strong soprano lead, Dutch singer and French Baroque specialist Judith van Wanroij. Other singers likewise step up, but the real credit goes to Rousset, who gets the strengths of Salieri's score: the grand intermèdes, and the exciting finale of Act 1, where the joining-together of action and music is in Mozart's league even if the tunes are not. Also praiseworthy is the engineering work of the curiously named Little Tribeca team, who obtain the best possible sound from none other than Versailles. Highly recommended to those who have dismissed Salieri: this is a sympathetic and enthusiastic performance of his music. © TiVo

Without a doubt, it is urgent to get back to essentials, to retrace the path from the canyons to the stars, to celebrate "the beauties of the earth (it's rocks, it's birdsongs), the beauties of the material sky, the beauties of the spiritual sky" as Messiaen writes at the head of his score. According to Jean-François Heisser, "there is a grandeur in this work that sweeps aside reservations about the composer; something in the music escapes us and instantly grips the audience". One cannot deny this work exemplifies the "too big for me" of which Gilles Deleuze spoke. © Mirare

Everyone knows Camille Saint-Saëns has a great sense of humour thanks to his Carnaval des Animaux in which no one escapes ridicule, not even him. Now the Palazzetto Bru Zane Foundation and Hervé Niquet have unearthed Phryné, a forgotten comic opera from 1893 enriched with recitatives composed by André Messager three years later.Received with immense and lasting success in its time, this brilliant work eventually fell into the abyss, never to be seen again. Fortunately, fans of Saint-Saëns made great efforts to rediscover his works on the centenary of his death in 2021. Phryné captures the "Grecomania" that was prevalent in all the arts in France at this time, especially in Offenbach’s music and even in architecture (just think of the beautiful Parisian district of New Athens in the 9th arrondissement). Ironically, and perhaps a little cheekily, Saint-Saens confessed that he was “working on this little piece with infinite pleasure” and was infatuated with this courtesan musician who had served as a model for the sculptor Praxitele.Always keen to discover a forgotten repertoire, Hervé Niquet brought together a few singers, Florie Valiquette, Cyrille Dubois, Anaïs Constans and Thomas Dolié, to breathe some life back into Phryné with his Concert Spirituel, with the aim of producing a concert version to be performed in the Opéra de Rouen Normandie in 2021. Though Lucien Augé’s libretto may seem tasteless today with its hefty dose of misogyny, Saint-Saens’ music is simply delicious, with a succession of arias and ensembles. This modest and charming opera-comedy, which Charles Gounod so enjoyed, offers a less serious and less academic take of a composer that well and truly deserves to be rediscovered. © François Hudry/Qobuz