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             Tragédiennes 3: Les Héroïnes 
              Romantiques 
              Étienne-Nicolas MÉHUL (1783-1817) 
              Ariodant (1799): Quelle fureur barbare !... Mais, que dis-je ?... 
              O des amants le plus fidèle [10 :06] 
              Rodolphe KREUTZER (1766-1831) 
              Astyanax (1801) : Ah, ces perfides grecs … Dieux, à qui 
              recourir [3 :20] 
              Antonio SALIERI (1750-1825) 
              Les Danaïdes (1784) : Ouverture [4 :47]* 
              Christoph Willibald GLUCK (1714-1787) 
              Iphigénie en Tauride (1779) : Non, cet affreux devoir – 
              Je t’implore et je tremble [3 :17] 
              François-Joseph GOSSEC (1734-1829) 
              Thésée (1782) : Ah ! faut-il me venger … Ma rivale 
              triomphe [3 :19] 
              Giacomo MEYERBEER (1791-1884) 
              Le Prophète (1849) : Ah, mon fils [3 :55] 
              Auguste MERMET (1810-1889) 
              Roland à Roncevaux (1864) : Prête à te fuir … Le soir pensive 
              [6 :21] 
              Hector BERLIOZ (1803-1869) 
              Les Troyens (1858) : Entrée des constructeurs – Entrée 
              des matelots – Entrée des laboureurs [3 :57]*, Ah ! 
              Je vais mourir… Adieu, fière cité [6 :13] 
              Camille SAINT-SAËNS (1835-1921) 
              Henry VIII (1883) : O cruel souvenir ! … Je ne te 
              reverrai jamais [8 :32] 
              Jules MASSENET (1842-1912) 
              Hérodiade (1881) : C’est Jean ! … Ne me refuse pas 
              [4 :10] 
              Giuseppe VERDI (1813-1901) 
              Don Carlos (1867) : Toi qui sus le néant des grandeurs 
              de ce monde [9 :33] 
                
              Véronique Gens (soprano) [except items marked *] 
              Les Talens Lyriques/Christophe Rousset  
              rec. 30 June – 5 July 2011, Ircam, Paris 
              Booklet includes original texts with English and German translations 
               
                
              VIRGIN CLASSICS 0709272  [67:49]  
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                  Have I been missing something? This is the third volume of a 
                  series that began from the dawn of French opera, with Lully, 
                  Campra and Rameau, and now reaches its romantic flowering in 
                  the later 19th century. Common to all three discs 
                  is the presence of Gluck; French opera, as can be seen from 
                  the names of Gluck, Salieri, Meyerbeer and Verdi, is intended 
                  in the broad sense of opera in French. 
                    
                  An ambitious programme for a single singer. I can only say that, 
                  as far as the present end of the operation is concerned, Véronique 
                  Gens is triumphantly in command of it all. Her voice has a natural 
                  sweetness that may seem small until we realize that she can 
                  expand excitingly – as in the climax of the Verdi – without 
                  a trace of hardening. She can also employ her chest tones without 
                  rasping. Above all she has weighed every word, every phrase, 
                  to bring maximum meaning to what are almost exclusively dramatic 
                  scenas rather than strict arias. Given that the period-instrument 
                  band exploits the piquant sound of its wind instruments in the 
                  quiet passages and invests the agitated ones with a whiplash 
                  attack and a sizzling precision that even Toscanini would have 
                  been proud of, the music is given every possible chance. 
                    
                  It is here that some doubts arise. Maybe for those who have 
                  followed the whole enterprise from its first volume the whole 
                  is greater than the sum of its parts. The parts that open volume 
                  3 come from a period which did not produce many French operas 
                  that have taken a firm place in the repertoire. Méhul, Kreutzer 
                  and Gossec are all names one knows from the history books. Or, 
                  at least, we remember that Méhul wrote an overture that Beecham 
                  was fond of, Kreutzer – yes, that Kreutzer – was the 
                  dedicatee of one of Beethoven’s violin sonatas and Gossec wrote 
                  a charming piece called Tambourin that used to be very 
                  popular. In theory one can only welcome the opportunity to know 
                  more about them. Would a complete opera have made a better case 
                  for them, or buried them for good? The trouble is that they 
                  seem stylistically interchangeable. Adept at providing dramatic 
                  recitation with some colourful orchestral touches, they fail 
                  to cap it with a memorable tune you take away with you. And, 
                  if they do try, they fall back on banality. It can be described 
                  as “functional” music, the late 18th century equivalent 
                  of a film soundtrack. With opulent staging I’m sure it “worked”, 
                  and maybe still would. Which is why I wonder if a complete opera 
                  might not have made a better case. Gens certainly makes a strong 
                  case for being chosen as the leading soprano in any such recording 
                  that might be made. 
                    
                  The interesting thing about this group is that Gluck, as far 
                  as this aria from this opera goes, seems no better than the 
                  others. As for the Salieri overture, it sounds like a Hoffnung-style 
                  tease, a manic switch of Mozart quotations dangled before us 
                  and whisked away while we still have the source on the tip of 
                  our tongues. Well, there’s one you’d have to get… only the Salieri 
                  quote precedes the Mozart “source” by two years, giving rise 
                  to interesting reflections. 
                    
                  We now step forward a generation. Meyerbeer’s “Le Prophète” 
                  was actually a repertoire opera for a substantial part of its 
                  lifetime. Famed for its grandiosity, the piece here is tender, 
                  lyrical, and brings a breath of genuine inspiration to the programme 
                  at last. Mermet was new to me entirely. His aria is a well-written 
                  affair with a principal lyrical tune that comes dangerously 
                  close to Adophe Adam’s “Cantique de Noël”. I have no idea, though 
                  whether Adam’s pretty bit of Christmas tinsel had reached its 
                  present-day ubiquity by 1864. 
                    
                  The Berlioz orchestral piece is a surprisingly sprightly affair 
                  for a grand opera that is mostly very grand indeed. Dido’s monologue 
                  and aria are another matter, full of tragic depth and heartfelt, 
                  if not heart-on-sleeve – emotion. Gens interprets it strongly 
                  with a strong awareness of its essentially classical manner 
                  of utterance. 
                    
                  The Saint-Saëns piece is a lyrical, tender outpouring with a 
                  well-coloured orchestral part. It is not an obvious smash-hit 
                  like that aria from “Samson et Dalila”, but it is possibly 
                  equal to Dalila’s other two arias from the same opera, which 
                  is no mean thing. A modern complete recording is probably needed, 
                  preferably with Gens in the role of Catherine d’Aragon. 
                    
                  The Massenet extract suffers from the problem of many later 
                  19th century operas that, while not through-composed 
                  in a strictly Wagnerian sense, they are nonetheless continuous. 
                  They have extractible “arias” in the sense that sometimes one 
                  singer takes the stage alone for five minutes or so, but they 
                  are not, and the present aria is not, satisfactorily-shaped 
                  individual entities with a beginning, middle and end. This is 
                  not intended to detract from a piece that is surely finely effective 
                  in its context. It just sounds a bit inconclusive here. 
                    
                  Can a piece have a beginning, middle and end, and at the same 
                  time form part of a larger overall design? Meyerbeer and Berlioz 
                  seemed to show that it can. Verdi, just in case you haven’t 
                  guessed it, gives a lesson to them all. How to forge a meaningful 
                  accompaniment, how to make each section follow on inexorably 
                  from the last and, finally, how to provide that essential ingredient 
                  of a great evening in the opera house, a climatic phrase that 
                  just knocks you for six. Gens rises to it all splendidly. 
                    
                  Put like this, it sounds as if I’m suggesting Gens would have 
                  done better to record a disc of popular Verdi arias and have 
                  done with it. No doubt she would have done that well, but I’m 
                  very glad she opted, instead, to use her talents for the purpose 
                  of extending our knowledge. Even if a few of the pieces here 
                  elicit the response, “Well, so that’s what it’s like..”, the 
                  singing and the orchestral collaboration ensure there’s never 
                  a dull moment. A major project from a major artist. 
                    
                  Christopher Howell
                       
                  
                  
                  
                 
                 
                 
             
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