Saying that this is a great Don Giovanni, a great Furtwängler Don Giovanni, and one of the greatest Don Giovanni's of the twentieth century is hardly to exaggerate the importance of this recording. Made on July 27, 1953, at the Salzburg Festival, it preserves a performance by one of the best casts ever assembled for the opera -- Cesare Siepi, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, Elisabeth Grummer, Anton Dermota, Otto Edelmann, Erna Berger, and Walter Berry -- backed by the best orchestra for the opera -- the Vienna Philharmonic -- and led by surely the greatest German conductor of the twentieth century. Under Furtwängler, the singers and players create a Don Giovanni that is fiery, passionate, romantic, metaphysical, and occasionally hilarious. While some listeners might legitimately prefer a lighter or funnier performance of Don Giovanni, and other listeners might prefer a cleaner or clearer recording of Don Giovanni, anyone who loves the work or the conductor will love this performance and, despite its conspicuous blemishes, this recording. Indeed, for those who love Furtwängler, the question will be whether or not to get a third Furtwängler Don Giovanni. Already in circulation are two performances from the 1954 Salzburg Festival with mostly the same stellar cast, one a sound recording and one a video recording of surprisingly good quality. Of course, for the true Furtwängler aficionado, the opportunity to hear the fabled 1953 Don Giovanni will be irresistible so the question is essentially moot.© 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

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

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

The musical world owes a debt of gratitude to French conductor Christophe Rousset not only for the vital, exquisite performances he delivers with the ensembles Les Talens Lyriques and Choeur de Chambre de Namur, but for his work in bringing to light neglected masterpieces of Baroque opera. Lully's Bellérophon, premiered in 1679, was a huge success in its time, with an initial run of nine months. Part of its popularity was doubtless due to the parallels that could be drawn between its plot and certain recent exploits of Louis XV, but even the earliest critics recognized the score's uniqueness and exceptional quality within Lully's oeuvre, so it's perhaps surprising that it has never been recorded before. The distinctiveness of the music was likely a result at least in part of the fact that Lully's preferred librettist Philippe Quinault was out of favor at the court of Louis XV at the time, so the composer turned to Thomas Corneille for the libretto, and Corneille's literary and dramatic styles were so different from Quinault's that Lully was nudged out of his comfort zone and had to develop new solutions to questions of structure and the marrying of music to text. It is the first opera for which Lully composed fully accompanied recitatives, and that alone gives it a textural richness that surpasses his earlier works. The composer also allows soloists to sing together, something that was still a rarity in Baroque opera. There are several duets and larger ensembles; the love duet, "Que tout parle à l'envie de notre amour extreme!," is a ravishing expression of passion and happiness, as rhapsodic as anything in 19th century Italian opera. The level of musical inventiveness throughout is exceptional even for Lully; the expressiveness of the recitatives, the charm of the instrumental interludes, the originality of the choruses, and the limpid loveliness of the airs make this an opera that demands attention. Rousset and his forces give an outstanding performance that's exuberantly spirited, musically polished, rhythmically springy, and charged with dramatic urgency. The soloists are consistently of the highest order. Cyril Auvity brings a large, virile, passionate tenor to the title role and Céline Scheen is warmly lyrical as his lover Philonoë. Ingrid Perruche is fiercely powerful as the villain, Stéenobée, and Jean Teitgen is a secure, authoritative Apollo. Soloists, chorus, and orchestra are fluent in the subtle inflections of French middle Baroque ornamentation. The sound of the live recording is very fine, with a clean, immediate, realistic ambience. This is a release that fans of Baroque opera will not want to miss. Highly recommended. © TiVo

Cellists rarely think of themselves as "prima donnas", and yet this is Ophélie Gaillard's gambit on this album, which is perhaps a questionable choice. The answer may be found on the cover showing the cellist opening the heavy red curtain of an opera stage with an amused look. It's a hint at the fact that it takes a good dose of courage and nerve to tackle the greatest pages of the operatic repertoire, from Don Giovanni to the operetta Toi, c'est moi, via the hits of Bellini, Rossini, Donizetti, Verdi, Puccini (E lucevan le stelle!!!), but also Tchaikovsky (Lenski's great aria in Eugene Onegin) or the famous O! du mein Holder from Wagner's Tannhäuser. During a rehearsal of Don Giovanni at the Festival d'Aix-en-Provence, the solo cello of the Mahler Chamber Orchestra suddenly had to replace an absent singer, under the direction of Daniel Harding. It was at that moment that Ophélie Gaillard developed the idea of this original programme of operatic arias without words. © François Hudry/Qobuz

White Blood Cells may have been a reaction to the amount of fame the White Stripes had received up to the point of its release, but, paradoxically, it made full-fledged rock stars out of Jack and Meg White and sold over half a million copies in the process. Despite the White Stripes' ambivalence, fame nevertheless seems to suit them: They just become more accomplished as the attention paid to them increases. Elephant captures this contradiction within the Stripes and their music; it's the first album they've recorded for a major label, and it sounds even more pissed-off, paranoid, and stunning than its predecessor. Darker and more difficult than White Blood Cells, the album offers nothing as immediately crowd-pleasing or sweet as "Fell in Love With a Girl" or "We're Going to Be Friends," but it's more consistent, exploring disillusionment and rejection with razor-sharp focus. Chip-on-the-shoulder anthems like the breathtaking opener, "Seven Nation Army," which is driven by Meg White's explosively minimal drumming, and "The Hardest Button to Button," in which Jack White snarls "Now we're a family!" -- one of the best oblique threats since Black Francis sneered "It's educational!" all those years ago -- deliver some of the fiercest blues-punk of the White Stripes' career. "There's No Home for You Here" sets a girl's walking papers to a melody reminiscent of "Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground" (though the result is more sequel than rehash), driving the point home with a wall of layered, Queen-ly harmonies and piercing guitars, while the inspired version of "I Just Don't Know What to Do With Myself" goes from plaintive to angry in just over a minute, though the charging guitars at the end sound perversely triumphant. At its bruised heart, Elephant portrays love as a power struggle, with chivalry and innocence usually losing out to the power of seduction. "I Want to Be the Boy" tries, unsuccessfully, to charm a girl's mother; "You've Got Her in Your Pocket," a deceptively gentle ballad, reveals the darker side of the Stripes' vulnerability, blurring the line between caring for someone and owning them with some fittingly fluid songwriting. The battle for control reaches a fever pitch on the "Fell in Love With a Girl"-esque "Hypnotize," which suggests some slightly underhanded ways of winning a girl over before settling for just holding her hand, and on the show-stopping "Ball and Biscuit," seven flat-out seductive minutes of preening, boasting, and amazing guitar prowess that ranks as one the band's most traditionally bluesy (not to mention sexy) songs. Interestingly, Meg's star turn, "In the Cold, Cold Night," is the closest Elephant comes to a truce in this struggle, her kitten-ish voice balancing the song's slinky words and music. While the album is often dark, it's never despairing; moments of wry humor pop up throughout, particularly toward the end. "Little Acorns" begins with a sound clip of Detroit newscaster Mort Crim's Second Thoughts radio show, adding an authentic, if unusual, Motor City feel. It also suggests that Jack White is one of the few vocalists who could make a lyric like "Be like the squirrel" sound cool and even inspiring. Likewise, the showy "Girl, You Have No Faith in Medicine" -- on which White resembles a garage rock snake-oil salesman -- is probably the only song featuring the word "acetaminophen" in its chorus. "It's True That We Love One Another," which features vocals from Holly Golightly as well as Meg White, continues the Stripes' tradition of closing their albums on a lighthearted note. Almost as much fun to analyze as it is to listen to, Elephant overflows with quality -- it's full of tight songwriting, sharp, witty lyrics, and judiciously used basses and tumbling keyboard melodies that enhance the band's powerful simplicity (and the excellent "The Air Near My Fingers" features all of these). Crucially, the White Stripes know the difference between fame and success; while they may not be entirely comfortable with their fame, they've succeeded at mixing blues, punk, and garage rock in an electrifying and unique way ever since they were strictly a Detroit phenomenon. On these terms, Elephant is a phenomenal success.© Heather Phares /TiVo

The 2004 edition of the ARD International Competition in Munich saw the paths of violist Antoine Tamestit and members of the Ebène Quartet cross. A meeting of champions on a day to remember, with these artists taking first place in their respective categories. Their collaborations have multiplied over the years, finally converging on a first joint recording entitled Round Midnight, which ended with a sumptuous rendition of Schoeberg’s Transfigured Night.But in this case the new ensemble is committed to the genius of Mozart, through his Quintet No. 3 K.515 and No. 4 K.516. In the first, the group explores the highly contrasting moods in Mozart's writing, alternating between the abundant energy of the first and fourth movements, and the melancholic lethargy of the second and third. A roller coaster of emotions, guided by clever playing and a lovely, enveloping tonality. On the other hand, Quartet K.516 has darker colours, the key of G minor in Mozart's work often being associated with distress and sorrow. It took on a particular meaning in 1787, at a time when the composer was worried about his father's health. The Ebène quartet and Tamestit draw a striking chiaroscuro from the score, magnified by intelligent choices with regards to the tempi, leaving room for perfect spaces that allow the piece to breathe. © Pierre Lamy/Qobuz

It's hard to imagine today but Atlanta used to very much be a musical backwater. Before the early '90s—when the city became the epicenter of American R&B and hip-hop thanks to the work done by L.A. Reid, Babyface, Jermaine Dupri, and many others—Atlanta was pretty much just a huge Southern city more known as a requisite tour stop (it's where the Sex Pistols kicked off their U.S. tour!) than for its homegrown talent. There had always been a vibrant music scene, but despite its creative breadth, it was mostly appreciated at the local level. Occasionally, artists would break through, but the idea of an "Atlanta scene" was laughable, a situation made even more embarrassing by the fact that tiny Athens—just an hour north —boasted a far more critically appreciated stable of bands. So when, in 1990, a band called the Black Crowes began dominating rock radio with their debut album, even some Atlanta music fans were surprised to discover that this was, in fact, a local act. Previously known as Mr. Crowe’s Garden, the band achieved moderate regional success with their punkish and somewhat shambolic take on classic rock tropes, but the focused, muscular, and surgically precise sound of Shake Your Money Maker was an altogether different beast. While fellow Atlantans Georgia Satellites had hit paydirt a few years earlier with a similar—albeit more barroom-focused—formula, the Crowes approach was far more studious. While they would later become renowned for their loose, jammy live shows (and even their follow-up would reveal a far more interesting spectrum of southern musical influences), Shake Your Money Maker found the Black Crowes reading the catechism from The Holy Book of Rock & Roll like the most true-believing evangelists. And while the album didn't score a whole lot of points for originality, it more than made up for that with its confidence, swagger, and sheer skill. Of course, Chris Robinson's vocal style—equal parts Mick Jagger and Faces-era Rod Stewart with a measure of gravelly Stax soul for flavor—was a highly effective delivery mechanism, but the twin guitars of his brother Rich Robinson and Jeff Cease (who would be the first of many "former members" of the band) were both beefy and melodic, and the highly underrated rhythm section of Johnny Colt and Steve Gorman managed to be both locked in tight and fiercely swinging. The combination was irresistible, providing a powerful reminder of the instinctive strengths of rock 'n' roll (which, you must remember, was kind of on the ropes in those post-spandex, pre-grunge years). Sure, scoring a hit with a cover of a hit ("Hard to Handle") may not be the best way to establish your creative abona fides, but being able to follow that up with more interesting singles like "Jealous Again" and "Twice As Hard" proved that the band was capable of more than just xeroxing the greats. This fleshed-out 30th anniversary reissue does a marvelous job of putting the work into perspective, unearthing early Mr. Crowe’s Garden demos, a few studio outtakes ("Charming Mess" being the best), and an absolutely barnstorming hometown concert recorded around the time of the album's release. © Jason Ferguson/Qobuz

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