No arias as fillers,
this time. Aida nestles nicely
into a twofer, so Naxos did not have
to further raid the archives. This excellent
performance boasts two stars in the
two big roles – Renata Tebaldi, a terrifically
important lirico spinto soprano takes
the title role, and Mario del Monaco
is Radamès, whose power and stamina
live on in this recording.
The sources for this
transfer are British LPs – they come
up remarkably well, courtesy of Mark
Obert-Thorn. In fact this is one of
the finest transfers I have heard in
this series. Try the opening Preludio
and you will not be disappointed. The
delicacy of the strings is caught to
perfection – what we hear is a silken
web of sound. It is one of the best
starts to an opera one could hope for
(and some live performances have acted
as a reminder as to just how difficult
this Prelude is). Moulding the phrases
expressively and with a great deal of
care, Erede sets the scene for Dario
Caselli (Ramfis) to remind us just how
large and rounded his voice was. In
comparison, del Monaco initially appears
as somewhat edgy. But how that impression
dissolves with the onset of ‘Se quel
guerrier io fossi!’, and how lovely
is his legato at ‘Celeste Aida’. One
is left in no doubt as to his reserves
of power at the end, either.
Questions as to whether
he is the most subtle singer are only
raised at the very end of the opera,
when he comes into direct comparison
with his Aida. They sing their final
phrase together, Tebaldi supremely affecting,
del Monaco perhaps less so.
Appropriately, in performance
terms it is Tebaldi who appears at the
pinnacle of the cast-list (appropriate
because the opera is, after all, about
her). There is a brazen determination
to ‘Ritorna vincitor’ (end Act 1, Scene
1) that is incredibly compelling. Tebaldi
is completely committed. She is similarly
excellent in ‘O patria mia’ (Act 3),
capturing the atmosphere of homesick
longing to perfection.
The third major protagonist,
it could be argued, is in the (imagined)
pit. Alberto Erede’s sense of dramatic
pacing is the fruit of much experience,
and he is fully alive to the contours
of the score and the various emotions.
Tender passages have space to breathe,
and yet the more dramatic moments can
make one’s heart race. Perhaps his pacing
of the latter half of the Third Act
is the best example of this. The very
urgency that is conveyed means that
it is easy to imagine being in the theatre,
despite the studio-bound origins of
this recording. Another example might
be the end of Act 4 Scene 1, where Radamès
is condemned to be immured in the tomb
(Verdi’s ‘Immuration Scene’?). In Erede’s
hands, the music is darkly dramatic,
not to mention consistently gripping.
Ebe Stignani’s ebony
mezzo, with its burnished lower register,
contrasts perfectly with Tebaldi’s Aida.
Malcolm Walker’s ever-excellent annotations
describe Stignani as ‘the finest Italian
mezzo-soprano of her generation’, and
on this evidence it is hard to disagree.
If baritone Aldo Protti’s Amonasro cannot
match his Aida in Act 3, it remains
a powerful portrayal. Dario Caselli’s
Ramfis, which started so promisingly,
continues as he began, capable of real
beauty at times (Act 3). Fernando Corena
provides a monarch whose regality comes
through his voice, strong and sure.
Mark Obert-Thorn provides
a post-scriptum that points out that
Suzanne Danco may have taken the role
of the High Priestess in Act 1, her
absence from the credits being to ‘protect’
one of their star sopranos. If true,
she is an exalted singer in exalted
company.
There is much to praise
here. The chorus, so important in this
opera, is superb (‘Gloria all’Egitto’
has all the patriotism one could wish).
An important reissue.
Now that it has been made available
at super-budget price, there really
is no excuse for not buying it.
Colin Clarke
see also
review by Robert Farr
Renata Tebaldi (soprano) Aida; Mario del Monaco
(tenor) Radamès; Ebe Stignani (mezzo) Amneris;
Aldo Protti (baritone) Amonasro; Fernando Corena
(bass) King; Dario Caselli (bass) Ramfis; Piero
de Palma (tenor) Messenger; Chorus and Orchestra
of the Accademia di Santa Cecilia, Rome/Alberto
Erede. 
