While Mozart was largely overlooked in the French capital, Antonio Salieri took on the reigns of the Académie Royale de Musique (Paris Opera), a fruitful collaboration that was completely broken up by the French Revolution. After the success of his work Les Danaïdes, composed for Paris in 1784, Salieri worked tirelessly with Beaumarchais, spurred on by the success and scandal of his Figaro, on a new project which would become Tarare. Beaumarchais moved himself shamelessly toward stardom, skillfully self-promoting and attending rehearsals so as to assure that the orchestra played pianissimo to emphasize the primacy of his verse during performances. Beaumarchais found that the music was too overwhelming to “embellish the lyrics”.Created one year after Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro (which was relatively well-received in Vienna before triumphing in Prague), Tarare was an immense success in Paris maintaining the status of the composer’s repertoire despite the political turmoil of the time before disappearing from view around 1826, thereon ceasing to be played. Beaumarchais’ words were immediately adapted into Italian by Lorenzo Da Ponte to be performed and met with equal success in Vienna. Tarare is half lyrical tragedy, half comic opera with a hint of orientalism.After resuscitating Les Danaïdes and Les Horaces, Christophe Rousset finished off his series of recordings dedicated to Salieri’s French operas for the Parisian public. Tarare is very much of its time, that of the Lumières, and used the power of art to challenge despotism in all its forms. Thanks to Christophe Rousset’s excellent delivery and lively direction, this recording enables one to judge the merits of the composition and the chasm that separates an honest and talented musician from a solitary and impassioned one like Mozart. © François Hudry/Qobuz

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

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The Naxos label has embarked on a series covering lesser-known works of Sibelius, performed by the little-known (outside Finland) but venerable Turku Philharmonic Orchestra under Sibelius veteran Leif Segerstam. They're well worth the time of Sibelius lovers, with clean, idiomatic performances that cover a side of the composer substantially lighter than that shown by his weighty symphonies. Many are associated with the theater, falling into genres like incidental music that really ought not to be forgotten inasmuch as they were the direct ancestors of today's soundtrack music. The music here is known to at least some listeners: Sibelius' incidental music for Maeterlinck's play Pelléas et Mélisande is performed often in a suite made by the composer, but recordings of the whole set of pieces are rare. The work makes an interesting counterpoint to Debussy's and Schoenberg's better-known sets of pieces, and if the listener can shake free of a linear view of music history, it stands up well to those. Sample the very sparse and powerful Mélisande's song (track 6), given a rich performance by soprano Pia Pajala; it's enough to make one wish Sibelius had been induced to apply his structural thinking to opera. The deep and unified final Andante from Act V could and should be performed more often as an independent work. After the Pélleas music is another piece of incidental music for an abortive project, a trio of waltzes (one vocal), and a little work from the end of Sibelius' career. There might be slightly cleaner versions of the Pélleas et Mélisande music out there, but probably not in a recording that gives the entire work. © TiVo

Jules Massenet’s numerous operas (notably Manon and Werther) have somewhat overshadowed his symphonic works, not to mention his oratorios and melodies. At the head of the Royal Scottish National Orchestra, French conductor Jean-Luc Tingaud brings some of his forgotten manuscripts back to life.Visions is a symphonic poem modelled on works by Liszt – particularly his famous Preludes. It was inspired by his travels, as Massenet said himself: “The last hour of the day, in the high and sad solitudes of Simplon. The traveller there has fallen asleep, but his sleep is disturbed by visions that are calm or agitated, smiling or terrible. He wakes up. Around him it is night...he no longer dreams, he listens and thinks he hears a voice dear to his memory.”Brumaire was written for a historical drama commemorating Napoleon’s coup d'etat that ended the 'Directoire' period. The Overture for “Phaedra”, written at the Pasdeloup Orchestra’s request, is considered one of Massenet’s best instrumental works and has long been included in the symphonic repertoire. The incidental music for Les Erinnyes and his ballet Espada show Massenet’s appeal for exoticism – something that was fashionable at the time. This aspect of his music is still largely undiscovered. © François Hudry/Qobuz

The international success of after its premiere in 1859 completely overshadowed all of Gounod’s subsequent operas. He had known Goethe’s masterpiece for two decades and brought to the text his gifts for memorable melody and rich orchestration. Added to this, the plot of Faust’s ageing and the heroine Marguerite’s redemption, offered the opportunity for the most spectacular stage effects. Heard here in its 1864 London version with an additional air and without spoken dialogue or ballet, Faust represents 19th-century French opera at its peak. © Naxos