Fans
                      of this excellent singer should note that this is not a
                      new record. Some time ago I thoroughly enjoyed, without
                      perhaps going overboard in my enthusiasm, her 2001 disc
                      of French opera arias entitled “L’Etoile” (see
                      review). Any reader who doesn’t have that record is recommended
                      to try it first.
                
                 
                
                
                Not
                      that this one is bad, indeed much of it is very good. Larmore
                      has made a particular name for herself in Rossini heroines
                      such as Rosina and La Cenerentola and the Italian arias
                      here are excellent. She has the right-sounding voice, unmistakeably
                      mezzo in its full, dark timbre, yet stretching to a sustained
                      high C as easily as it descends down to G in the chest
                      register. Her coloratura is impeccably neat, she
                      embellishes the music where required and she can also sustain
                      an excellent legato. Here and there I wished for a little
                      more character, particularly in the recitatives. I don’t
                      know how many of these roles she had actually sung on stage
                      prior to making the recording. I couldn’t help thinking
                      that Marilyn Horne, for example, could have sung five arias
                      in a row by Rossini, Bellini and Donizetti without making
                      them sound so similar. In the cavatina of the Bellini piece
                      you would think she was singing about something very pleasant
                      and romantic. There is no feeling that Romeo is trying
                      desperately to change his interlocutor’s mind, no sense
                      of “what if …?” to it.
                
                 
                
                The
                      opening Gluck item has a number of unusual features. The
                      conductor has introduced a harpsichord into the orchestra.
                      This may be correct but on the whole even authentically-minded
                      conductors seem to think that Gluck’s orchestral writing
                      is as complete as Mozart’s. Then the two tempi, marked “Andante
                      con moto” and “Adagio”, are more differentiated than I
                      have ever heard them. The one is almost double the other.
                      This might be fine if it enabled her to express a strong
                      sense of character. Janet Baker had a slower Adagio than
                      most, but the intensity she created was of another order.
                      A further unusual feature is that, while for most of the
                      aria Larmore is sparing even with the traditionally observed
                      appoggiaturas, at the last appearance of the famous melody
                      she suddenly adds quite considerable decoration. Again,
                      it may be that singers of the day did this but on the whole
                      Gluck’s noble lines benefit from being left simple. And
                      it seems inconsistent when at the phrase “né dal ciel” which,
                      with its pause, does seem to demand a cadenza of
                      some sort, she has left the music unadorned. The final
                      curious feature is that she takes a breath IN THE MIDDLE
                      of the word “fedele”. I cannot begin to imagine how such
                      a thing was passed for release. Just supposing she was
                      working from an edition which had forgotten to put the
                      second hyphen in “fe-de-le”, and didn’t know enough Italian
                      to correct it automatically, couldn’t the conductor – an
                      Italian – have pointed out the gravity of what she was
                      doing? I listened to this a second time immediately – I
                      just couldn’t believe it at first.
                
                 
                
                The
                      rather sedate Mozart says little and the French items are
                      again under-characterized. You would suppose Stéphano’s
                      piece from Roméo et Juliette to be a charming serenade
                      to his lady rather than a saucy page intent on provoking
                      a fight from the Capulets – something he succeeds in doing
                      all too well, thus setting in motion the tragedy. I realize
                      that for an older generation of singers the Tchaikovsky
                      was known as “Adieu, forêts”, but it seems very strange
                      today for an American singer to present a Russian aria
                      in a French translation. She sings it rather as though
                      it was a French aria. It’s quite nice but surely
                      a bit of Arkhipova-like heft is required? Lastly, Orlofsky’s
                      aria in both German and English, sung extremely slowly
                      and seriously without any attempt at the hiccups which
                      the music seems to want to imitate.
                
                 
                
                All
                      this sounds a bit damning. Maybe Larmore wasn’t quite ready
                      for a solo disc at the time. In that case it is rather
                      a pity this one had to turn up again. The Italian arias
                      are worth having but I daresay she’d do even these better
                      today. There’s a good essay on the mezzo in trousers roles,
                      except that the writer is evidently under the impression
                      that the Cherubino aria to be included was not this one
                      but “Voi che sapete”.
                
                 
                
                      Christopher
                          Howell
                
                       
                
              
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