Mescheriakova is already
something special, and appears to be
on the way to great things. If this
disc is anything to go by, that is.
She has a wonderful way of ‘floating’
her voice; occasionally, though, this
is just slightly misjudged and the moment
of magic fudged. On disc, my only experience
of her has been as Hélène
in the Philips set of Verdi’s Jérusalem,
the 1847 French adaptation of I lombardi
(462 613-2). She has also taken the
part of the Countess in Mozart’s Figaro,
recently reviewed
on this site .
This is a well-programmed
disc with the twin (and usually linked)
concepts of unrequited love and death
cropping up regularly. The inclusion
of arias by Rachmaninov and Spontini
certainly adds interest, as does some
early-ish Verdi that concludes the set
(Ernani, especially interesting
in the light of the ENO
production very recently .
Mescheriakova seems
to have no problems with long, legato
lines that encompass a wide range within
a short space of time (in fact it is
surely no accident there are several
examples here). Her lower range is strong
and timbrally vibrant, her upper register
strong and gleaming, yet there is plenty
of flexibility and a large expressive
vocabulary there, too. In fact, she
seems to be the epitome of what she
is, a true lirico-spinto.
The Rachmaninov (from
Francesca da Rimini) is very
brief (less than three minutes), yet
it makes its point well. In this context
that point is Mescheriakova’s enviable
awareness of the long line and her sense
of being at home in the lyric outpouring.
On the other side of the coin, when
she tries to float a line here she is
markedly less successful that later
on in the disc. The excerpt rather peters
out. From its ashes, Tatiana’s Letter
Scene emerges, an account that is dramatically
alive to the music’s flow (the Slovak
Radio Symphony Orchestra seems to outdo
itself here, in the presence of a major
artist, marred only by the occasional
workaday woodwind comment). Further,
Mescheriakova’s diction is exemplary
(her sense of being at home with the
Russian language may, of course, be
taken as read).
I have long considered
Don Carlos to be one of Verdi’s
greatest operas. The omnipresent problem,
of course, is which version to use -
four acts or five?; French or Italian?,
and so on. Here Mescheriakova takes
on ‘Tu che la vanitá’, Elisabeth
de Valois’s crypt plea for sympathy
to the tomb of Charles V. A complete,
and live, Don Carlos came my
way on Naxos not too long ago, featuring
Hillevi Martinpelto as Elisabeth (Naxos
8.660096-98: please link to my review).
Mescheriakova is superb, outclassing
Martinpelto, her distressed pleading
almost tangible, It takes a great artists
to take the listener straight into the
heart of a drama when only one excerpt
is on display, but it is precisely this
that Mescheriakova manages.
One can immediately
hear that the next Verdi excerpt (from
Luisa Miller) comes from an earlier
stage in the composer’s career (nearly
twenty years earlier, and this is emphatically
not a criticism of the composer or his
music, as anyone who has followed my
unswerving devotion to early/early-mid
Verdi will attest!). ‘Tu puniscimi,
O Signore’ (another entreaty to a deity)
opens with those characteristic rum-ti-tum
accompaniments in the strings (from
0’14), over which the singer pours out
her heart. The Boccanegra ‘Come in quest’ora
bruna’ shows Mescheriakova’s marvellous
long line again - a shame the orchestra’s
magical accompaniment is here so terribly
literal (no reflection of the text’s
‘shimmering light’ here), so the singer
has to work against her accompanists
rather than with them.
‘Casta diva’ finds
Mescheriakova on hallowed (read Callas)
ground. But Mescheriakova makes it all
her own. Here is the perfect vehicle
for the spun long line, and how liquid
is her legato (over workaday strings).
Mescheriakova’s status has been apparent
throughout the recital, but here she
comprehensively outclasses her surroundings.
The chorus (Slovak Philharmonic) is
acceptable, no more. The climactic high
note is thrilling.
Maria Stuarda
(Donizetti) is a magnificent work, one
that Dame Janet Baker memorably recorded,
in English, for Chandos (CHAN3017, taken
‘live’ from the London Coliseum in 1982).
Again, Mescheriakova loses nothing in
comparison in her ‘O nube! Che lieve
per l’aria t’aggiri’.
The name of Spontini
is a welcome sight, but at only 2’46
duration one wishes for more. The excerpt
(from Act 2 of La Vestale) is
very subdued, and Mescheriakova holds
the atmosphere excellently. The ending
just hangs in the air, out of which
emerges .... the final Verdi excerpt,
‘Surta è la notte .. Ernani,
involami’, Elvira’s plea for rescue
from Silva. The recent (and continuing
at the time of writing) run of this
opera at ENO serves as a timely reminder
of the stature of this work (review
). Good though Cara O’Sullivan was,
she is no match for Mescheriakova, hypnotic
in those long lines (again). This is
a fitting end to a memorable recital.
Delights galore.
For those interested in finding out
more about Mescheriakova, an interview
is available on the web.
Colin Clarke
Marina Mescheriakova (soprano); aSlovak
Philharmonic Chorus