Richard WAGNER (1813-1883) 
          Das Rheingold [147:12] 
          Wotan - René Pape 
          Donner - Alexei Markov 
          Froh - Sergei Semishkur 
          Loge - Stephan Rügamer 
          Fricka - Ekaterina Gubanova 
          Freia - Viktoria Yastrebova 
          Erda - Zlata Bulycheva 
          Alberich - Nikolai Putilin 
          Mime - Andrei Popov 
          Fasolt - Evgeny Nikitin 
          Fafner - Mikhail Petrenko 
          Woglinde - Zhanna Dombrovskaya 
          Wellgunde - Irina Vasilieva 
          Flosshilde - Ekaterina Sergeeva 
          Mariinsky Orchestra/Valery Gergiev 
          rec. June 2010, February, April, June 2012, Mariinsky Concert Hall, 
          St Petersburg 
          
MARIINSKY MAR0526  
 
          [72:21 + 75:21] 
 
         When record companies embark on a complete 
Ring 
          it’s often 
Die Walküre that they release first. There 
          can be several reasons for this; most often it’s because 
Walküre 
          is the most popular opera in the cycle and so you can guarantee some 
          sales. Sometimes it’s to give a flavour of the conductor’s 
          approach before embarking on the more expository style of 
Rheingold. 
          Both of these may well be true of Gergiev’s 
Ring, but I 
          fear that another reason lies behind their decision to release 
Rheingold 
          second. That is that, after such an 
excellent 
          Walküre 
          as the one they released earlier in 2013, this 
Rheingold is nowhere 
          near the top flight. 
            
          There’s a very mellifluous prelude, in which Gergiev generates 
          a fantastic sense of momentum so that you feel that the music just about 
          reaches breaking point by the entrance of the Rhinemaidens. After that 
          things get off to a bad start with a formulaic, run-of-the-mill opening 
          scene. It’s perfectly capably sung, but the trio of Rhinemaidens 
          and, especially, Nikolai Putilin’s Alberich feels very much like 
          they are going through the motions. Perhaps it’s the consequence 
          of a concert performance, but that’s no excuse when you compare 
          it with, say, 
Janowski’s 
          recent version which was recorded in similar circumstances. Alberich’s 
          flirtation with the Rhinemaidens lacks any sense of playfulness, mockery 
          or malice; they might as well be singing hymns for all the emotional 
          investment they put in. The Rhinemaidens don’t seem in the least 
          bit excited about the unveiling of the gold so that their shrieks when 
          Alberich steals it are decidedly unconvincing. Nor, until the last possible 
          moment, does Putilin sound in any way energised by the prospect of the 
          power that the gold will bring him. 
            
          Things improve with the second scene, for this introduces René 
          Pape whose Wotan was so impressive in 
Walküre, and it remains 
          so here. His opening peroration to the finished castle is superb, full 
          of hope, nobility and high-minded aspiration, and his single - or should 
          that be simple? - minded determination to avoid paying with Freia is 
          convincing in the simplicity of its conviction. There is palpable frustration 
          in his voice when the giants ask for the Rhinegold as payment instead 
          of Freia and he toys effectively with Alberich in the fourth scene. 
          His self-confidence then gives way to deep-seated insecurity, even fear 
          after Erda’s appearance and he sounds deeply reflective after 
          Fasolt’s murder. However, he sounds tired by the time of the final 
          monologue, and the first appearance of the sword theme seems to push 
          him too far beyond his comfort zone. It’s the only thing that 
          blots an otherwise excellent performance. 
            
          Stephan Rügamer is thin of voice for Loge, but I rather liked his 
          interpretation because the lighter colour is never less than attractive 
          to listen to, and it adds to the character’s slippery sense of 
          cunning. Gubanova’s Fricka grew on me after a rather anonymous 
          start and, thankfully, Putilin’s Alberich finds some energy by 
          the time of the third scene as he describes his designs on the gods. 
          He fumes and fulminates brilliantly when the hoard is confiscated, though 
          there is no need for him to lapse into screaming as he does at the end. 
          His delivery of the curse is good, however, combining malice and frustration 
          very convincingly, and making you wonder anew why he didn’t put 
          more conviction into the first scene. 
            
          Much of what is on offer elsewhere, however, is distinctly mediocre. 
          On paper the duo of Evgeny Nikitin and Mikhail Petrenko look like a 
          dream pair of giants, but in fact Nikitin is a shouty and banal Fasolt. 
          Petrenko is better because his Fafner has a hint of evil about him, 
          even as he describes Freia’s golden apples in his first appearance, 
          and his murder of his brother seems like the natural conclusion for 
          this character. At times Sergei Semishkur is barely audible as Froh, 
          though Alexei Markov summons Donner’s thunderclouds fairly convincingly. 
          Regrettably the thwack of the timpani when the hammer strikes the rock 
          is terrible bathos. The voice of Zlata Bulycheva sounds as though it 
          has been electronically enhanced for Erda, which is an unnecessary mistake 
          as she sounds perfectly good as she is. Andrei Popov gives his all as 
          Mime and makes you wish he had been given more to do, even if he isn’t 
          always exactly tuneful. 
            
          Gergiev keeps the transitions moving quickly, and the transformation 
          from the first to second scenes works particularly well with a quick-paced 
          attack on the Rhine music before giving way to the more elevated evocations 
          of the lofty heights. There are plenty of times, though, where his vast 
          dramatic experience seems to desert him completely, such as the appalling 
          slowing up of the tempo for the entrance of the giants. Even worse, 
          he slows down unforgivably during the moment when Wotan wrests the ring 
          from Alberich’s finger, sapping the dramatic tension fatally and 
          belying all of his experience in the theatre. Furthermore, the tempo 
          is all over the place for the final scene; too slow for the appearance 
          of the rainbow bridge and Wotan’s monologue, then too rushed for 
          the final climax. On the plus side, the descent into Nibelheim is exciting, 
          without being thrilling, and Gergiev is helped by an unusually tuneful 
          set of anvils. The orchestral playing is good, and they rise capably 
          to the climaxes, such as the appearance of the dragon or the finale 
          with the rainbow bridge, but they’re not quite at the elevated 
          level that they achieved in 
Walküre, and it’s hard 
          to know why. Perhaps it’s because there are fewer international 
          heavyweights in the cast, or perhaps it’s down to the very spread 
          out dates for recording, no explanation for which is given. 
            
          Anyhow, now that we’re half-way through the Mariinsky 
Ring 
          it’s a clear case of one hit and one near-miss. This 
Rheingold 
          is fair enough but it in no way stands up to the other live experience 
          of Janowski’s version, never mind the still incomparable Solti 
          
Rheingold from 1958 or Karajan’s 1967 version which I’m 
          also extremely fond of. Which, then, will prove the norm for Gergiev’s 
          
Ring: the thrilling passion of 
Walküre or the slightly 
          insipid, formulaic approach of 
Rheingold? Maybe we’ll find 
          out with the arrival of 
Siegfried. 
            
          
Simon Thompson 
          
          Masterwork Index: 
Das 
          Rheingold