This 
                  spirited performance of one of the best buffo operas lays claim 
                  to be one of the foremost recordings. Ever since it was first 
                  released on LP, almost 25 years ago it has held an honoured 
                  place in my collection, next to the old Cetra recording from 
                  1952. They have the main protagonist in common. In 1952 Sesto 
                  Bruscantini was in his early 30s and a mercurial old bachelor. 
                  He allowed a great deal of ‘business’ to be added to the written 
                  music, in accordance with old traditions. Thirty years later 
                  he is arguably even more suited to the role age-wise and the 
                  performance is more straight, possibly due to Riccardo Muti’s 
                  more puritan attitude. Muti was always a stickler for the original 
                  score and rarely allowing any frills. This does not imply that 
                  the comedy is underplayed but there are places where I prefer 
                  the more light-hearted atmosphere of the old recording with 
                  Mario Rossi at the helm. I nowadays own it in a CD transfer 
                  on the German Line Music label. The sound quality, though still 
                  comparatively ancient, is a good deal better than on the Everest 
                  LP transfer from the late 1960s, through which I learnt this 
                  music. EMI’s recording with Neville Boyling as balance engineer 
                  and John Mordler as producer is as close to perfection one can 
                  expect from an early digital source.
                
Riccardo 
                  Muti has always put an unmistakable personal stamp on his readings, 
                  especially of operas, and in a way he is the hero of this recording 
                  – for better or worse. I wouldn’t call his reading inflexible 
                  but he holds the proceedings on a tighter rein than Rossi, who 
                  is more lenient with the singers and gives them time to linger 
                  over phrases of special importance. Muti is stricter but still 
                  allows the singers some freedom. The result is a taut performance 
                  where the tension never slackens. This is even more noticeable 
                  when one listens to the complete opera but his stamp is very 
                  obvious even in these excerpts. The choice of numbers is sensible 
                  and in several places we get quite long scenes of uninterrupted 
                  music. The only problem for someone who knows this music is 
                  that whenever there is a cut one regrets that not everything 
                  could be included.
                
Tempos 
                  are brisk without being rushed and rhythms are springy throughout. 
                  On this account Muti wins over Rossi hands down. On the other 
                  hand Rossi’s reading is warmer and since the libretto is so 
                  heartless – which is my only objection concerning this opera 
                  – warmth is what to some extent can remedy Malatesta’s callous 
                  intrigues. But Muti can also be warm and the cello soloist is 
                  given space to caress the beautiful solo in the overture with 
                  sensitive phrasing.
                
The 
                  cast could hardly be bettered. Of course Bruscantini can’t disguise 
                  that he is an elderly gentleman, but he has preserved so much 
                  of his voice that it hardly matters and he is of course a master 
                  of turning a phrase memorably. Leo Nucci’s Malatesta is simply 
                  his best performance on record. Bella siccome un angelo 
                  is sung with such elegance and sap in the voice and such seductive 
                  phrasing that he twists Don Pasquale round his little finger.
                
Gösta 
                  Winbergh almost challenges Cesare Valletti, the best Ernesto 
                  since Tito Schipa, with his lyrical, plangent tone and impeccable 
                  legato and his Com’č gentil and the following duet 
                  Tornami a dir are models of beauty and elegance.
                
At 
                  the time of the recording Mirella Freni had been taking on heavy 
                  roles such as Aida, Tosca and Elisabetta in Don Carlo, 
                  but when she returned to her former lyrical territory she was 
                  just as beguiling as ever. The tone is slightly harder than 
                  it was twenty years earlier but her singing is still a wonder 
                  of freshness and agility.
                
In 
                  the ensemble scenes, of which there are plenty, especially in 
                  the second act, the voices blend admirably and patter duet by 
                  Malatesta and Pasquale is spirited if not as breakneck as in 
                  some performances. With the Ambrosians turning in a virtuoso 
                  version of the chorus in act 3 and the Philharmonia on their 
                  toes, this is a highlights disc to savour. The booklet has Julian 
                  Budden’s admirable notes from the original 1984 issue but no 
                  sung texts. Incidentally my review copy got stuck towards the 
                  end of track 18, Ernesto’s Com’č gentil, which was a 
                  pity since it is so well sung, but I can’t believe that this 
                  defect is inherent in every copy.
                
              
Göran 
                Forsling