The Originals

Carlos Kleiber's 1977 La Traviata is a rare gestalt among studio opera recordings, and it is one of the conductor's finer achievements. Kleiber knits the score together with unwavering rhythmic and dramatic intensity, never allowing any single moment to eclipse the larger scene or musical structure. The singers are kept on a tight leash -- given enough room to shape phrases and cadences, but not to indulge in sheer vocal display. The orchestra is similarly focused on realizing every detail of rhythm, melody, and articulation with vivid intensity. As a result, favorite arias, duets, and ensembles melt into the surrounding scenes in a way that invites curiosity about the drama at large while propelling it relentlessly forward. The general pace may strike some as a bit fast, but it's never boring, and frequently brilliant. Ileana Cotrubas, Plácido Domingo, and Sherrill Milnes all sound as if they're fully on board with Kleiber's vision: impassioned, but never indulgent. Cotrubas has all the vocal tools to handle Violetta's demanding music, but also a vivid humanity that brings credibility to the opera's final scenes; the fact that she seems too serious during the carefree opening is a reasonable tradeoff for believable tragedy at the end. Domingo delivers one of his most vocally disciplined performances; that cleanliness of delivery, combined with the natural Latin fervor of his sound, forms just the right cocktail of nobility and impulsivity for the young Germont. Milnes sings with unusual sensitivity, simplicity, and opulence as the elder Germont. Listeners who like to skip to the highlights when listening to operas may not appreciate this recording as much as those who want the full dramatic experience. Certainly, all of the famous arias and ensembles have been sung as well or better on many other recordings -- often with more grandeur and sense of occasion, making them more compelling as stand-alone excerpts. But Verdi's skill at shaping dramatic scenes, managing tension, and illuminating character through vocal expression has never been more clearly illustrated, and it can be argued that La Traviata has never been more fully realized on record. © TiVo

This 1977 recording of Carmen was based on a production from the Edinburgh Festival and includes most of the cast from that production with the exception of Ileana Cotrubas as Micaëla and Sherrill Milnes as Escamillo. Claudio Abbado conducts the London Symphony Orchestra, which plays with crisp precision and vitality. The evaluation of any performance of Carmen is complicated by the variety of editions available, the primary ones being the traditional version that uses recitatives set to music by Ernst Guiraud after the composer's death and the 1964 Fritz Oeser edition that uses the original spoken recitatives, but that reintroduces music Bizet discarded before the premiere. Most conductors using the spoken dialogue omit some or all of the discarded music, but Abbado includes it, and the result feels choppy and uneven, particularly in the first act. That effect is exacerbated by Abbado's performance. His tempos are frequently eccentrically slow or fast, without any apparent rationale, and he doesn't convey a convincing dramatic through-line or the sense of inevitable musical momentum that drives the opera. There are many effective moments, some lovely and some thrilling, but they don't add up to a convincing whole. That being said, the performances of the principals are often exceptional. Teresa Berganza's sultry, believably natural Carmen is beautifully nuanced, dramatically riveting, and musically ravishing. Plácido Domingo is a troubled, powerful Don José (pronounced here the Spanish rather than the French way) and his singing is lyrically intense. Cotrubas gives Micaëla exceptional warmth, even sensuality, and makes her a more interesting character than is usual. As Escamillo, Milnes is the least effective of the principals, sounding somewhat boomy and stiff. The sound alternates between the cavernous and the distant sides of an ideal ambience, and there is sometimes intentional but distracting crowd chatter under the spoken dialogue. In spite of the album's drawbacks, Berganza's vivid performance makes this a recording that should interest fans of the opera. © TiVo

The Amadeus Quartet was at its peak when these recordings were made in the late '60s. For some listeners, that peak was the peak of string quartet playing, a gracefully lyrical and deeply affecting blend of the prewar central European tradition and the postwar international style. For other listeners, their peak was merely fair to middling, a bland and blanched blend of sentimental nostalgia for the prewar central European tradition and the eviscerated and desiccated postwar international style. For listeners who loved the Amadeus Quartet, its performances of Haydn, Beethoven, and especially Mozart were among the best ever recorded and its recordings of Mozart's quintets are arguably the apex of the group's career. For those listeners, the ensemble was spontaneous, the balances effortless, the tone heavenly, and the interpretations the very stuff of life. For those listeners who disparaged the Amadeus, the group was seen as simply scrappy and sloppy. One thing neither group of listeners will argue with, however, is that Deutsche Grammophon's stereo sound was among the cleanest and clearest ever devised and that DG's reissue preserves and enhances that sound. © TiVo