Recordings
David L. Smith
It is often said that Rossini's William Tell (1829) is a difficult opera to mount, detractors noting its length (excessive) and its construction (awkward) as factors problematic to its stage worthiness. Its recordings have tended to compensate for these limitations, and in Riccardo Chailly's charismatic new version (London OS A-1446), sung in Italian, we have the most overtly theatrical recording to date, due chiefly to all-star casting and the spirited performance of the National Philharmonic. Luciano Pavarotti's presence ensures the set's commercial viability, and for good reason: in the role of Arnold he gives a truly dashing performance, freely producing the high notes and stopping the show with the aria "O muto asil." As Matilde, Mirella Freni is in fine voice and is finely attuned to her character's varied emotions. And as the heroic William, Sherrill Milnes provides the commanding stage presence needed to bind the episodic libretto.
For years, 61-year-old Italian pianist Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli has been more talked about than heard, his near legendary status built upon a small number of recordings and concerts, most recently a televised appearance in Vienna in September 1979, ably partnered by the Vienna Symphony under Carlo Maria Giulini. The featured work that evening was Beethoven's C major Concerto No. 1, and the performance has now been issued on disc (DG 2531 302). It is a study in paradoxical contrasts: impeccably executed, there is overall a true feeling of spontaneity; free of eccentricities, details jump out at the listener like sparks from a fire; poised, it offers both vigorous dramatic emphasis and real repose. Michelangeli's uncanny instinct for this piece is everywhere evident, including his use of the composer's controversial third cadenza, which seems perfectly placed. The past quarter has brought us few more enjoyable and thought-provoking recordings.
The manuscript of Dvořák's Piano Concerto in G minor contains so many corrections and erasures that it is often presumed the composer intended to revise it. He never did, but the score was reworked in 1919 by Vilem Kurz, and it is the Kurz version that is most often heard in concert. The Richter/Kleiber version of the original (Angel) seemed mainly an historical hommage, yet the appearance of a second recording of the original, by noted Dvořák interpreter Radoslav Kvapil, suggests a growing critical acceptance of the composer's first thoughts as the standard for this work. Our preference remains the fluid Kurz version, though Kvapil offers a compelling account, less grand than the Richter issue yet better attuned to the music's lyrical impulse (Supraphon 1110 2373).
