SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Maria Malibran,  The Romantic Revolution :  Cecilia Bartoli (mezzo); Orchestra La Scintilla Zürich. Barbican Hall, December 21.12. 2007 (CC)

Cecilia Bartoli's most recent project centres around the figure of Maria Malibran (1808-1836). Described in the Barbican programme as, 'the archetypal Romantic woman', Malibran, whose meteoric rise to fame, her closeness to Rossini and her status as idol in the eyes of the Parisians all give her now a certian mystique, finds in Bartoli an ardent supporter.

The recent Bartoli CD, Maria, is unusual in this day and age for the sheer luxury of its packaging, It is available in no less than three versions: standard CD, CD with luxury booklet; and hardback book with bonus DVD. Clearly someone at Decca believes in Bartoli.

And not without reason. This concert acted as much as anything as a reminder of her stature. Her technique is magnificent, emerging with flawless ease. Her dedication to the music is never less than total. Her fans reacted accordingly (the final standing ovation hardly came as a surprise).

The list of featured composers mixes the familiar with the less well-known. Thus, Mendelssohn, Hummel, Balfe, Donizetti and Rossini rub shoulders with Manuel Garcia (1775-1832) and Giuseppe Persiani (1799-1869).

The Orchestra La Scintilla, a period instrument ensemble, was directed on this occasion by violinist Ada Pesch, who was herself a memorable and eloquent soloist in one of the interjected pieces, the charming Andante tranquilo from Charles August de Bériot's Seventh Violin Concerto in G, Op. 76 (some lovely harmonic exploratios here – I for one shall be exploring the whole piece, if possible!)

If there is a criticism to be made, it is that such exploration of the little-known can pale after a while. At the end of the first half, I found myself almost begging for more, even though the first half lasted a full hour. And yet, shortly into the second part of the concert , the novelty was beginning to wear thin; and there is only a limited number of times one's jaw can drop in the presence of such vocal virtuosity!

The Manuel Garcia that started the concert was the Rossini-like overture to La figlia dell'aria, swiftly followed by Semiramide's Recitative, Scena and Aria from Garcia's opera of that name (first performed in New York in 1826). A story of a proud woman dedicated to her lover, the sentiments suited Bartoli's character perfectly. Adding a detectably dark colouring to her voice, and allowing her stage presence to carry her through, she conveyed not only the meaning of the words, but also a remarkable depth of emotion below them. When it was time for the aria, Bartoli came into her own. Her phrases, superb in themselves, seemed to arch over the spaces in between them. Finally, a virtuoso conclusion revealed her expertise at negotiating tricky passages at high velocity. In a sense, this was everything that the concert gave, encapsulated in one piece; in another sense, it was a precursor of what was to come.

The Introduction and Romanza for  Ines from Persiani's Ines de Castro (1835) begins with a long and lovely cello solo, despatched with much grace by Daniel Pezzotti. Again, Bartoli's skill with the long legato line (now against a harp accompaniment) was stunning. Her pianissimi were tremendous, as was  her timbral evenness over a very wide range.

It was a nice touch to interject the Mendelssohn Scherzo in G minor from the Op. 20 Octet at this point (in the orchestral garb provided by the composer himself). Even with added wind and brass, it flickered tantalisingly, providing the perfect foil for the ensuing Scena and Aria, Infelice, Op. 94 (1834, also by Mendelssohn). It was Bartoli's intensity that impressed here – this was a deeper Mendelssohn than we are accustomed to. She really came into her own at the send part, 'Ah ritorna'. Her attack was perfect, and when it came to the word, 'ruscello', it was clear she enjoyed the delivering the sound of the word as much as we enjoyed hearing it. Bartoli moved and acted the music as well as just singing, really entering into the character.

Another interjection: the storm from Rossini's Barbiere (nice and raw in its period garb), prior to a Cenerentola excerpt: 'Nacqui all'affanno'. Orchestra and singer were clearly of one mind here, with the typical Rossini cresceno clearly indictaive of the character's increasing hope. The virtuoso end was (by now) predictably arresting.

Hands up who knows Donizetti's Clarinet Concerto in B flat. Not many, then. Robert Pickup made a  splendid case for it, proving he can spin a nice long line, too, before La Bartoli resumed her programme with some of the Rossini Otello – 'Assisa a piè d'un salice' (Desdemona's Willow Song and Prayer). The opening, extended lament suited Bartoli down to the ground, as did her telling of the song's tale. No sooner on than off, though, to make way for the delightul Overture to Rossini's Il Signor bruschino before a brave shift: an English song!. Bartoli gave us Isaline's Ballad from Balfe's The Maid of Artois (1836). Her actual English was acceptable if not crystal clear, so I wonder if it was some sort of tester? (The song itself is notably brief!) Much more fun was the Air à la Tyrolienne avecn Variations by Hummel, with its brazen natural horns and its ever more virtuoso yodelling. After the Bériot concerto, it was Bellini's Sonnambula that had the final (scheduled) word, with 'Ah! Non credea mirarti'. This was simply gorgeous, and, it has to be said, a return to truly great music. Bartoli's beautifully-spun pianos and her face full of smiles for the fireworks said it all. The hair was well and truly down now, the standing ovation on its way.

One of the most fun pieces on the CD is 'Rataplan' by Malibran herself. Lots of unofficial photographers took advantage of the encore status, as a side-drummer made his way across the stage towards the singer. Great fun; and a 'Non più mesta' (Cenerentola) was still to come!.

Colin Clarke

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