Prima la musica, poi le parole: Still not a Falstaff review

But a chance to show off my newest and shiniest toys. I did actually tell myself I wouldn't go madly shopping this time but what can I say, it's an addiction, I can't help myself.

Portraits: Leyla Gencer - Donizetti, Verdi, Catalani.
In May last year there was brief clip of Leyla Gencer during the Met broadcast intermission. I don't even remember what it was, but the voice appealed to me immediately and I was full of good intentions to hear more. But I never actually did anything except listen to tinny Amazon samples and keep on intending to buy a CD sometime. Finally I have, and happily I'm just as enchanted by an hour of Leyla as I was by 20 seconds. It's always gratifying when that happens, nice to find that once in a while at least I can trust my first impressions of a voice. Bodes well for Elisabeth Söderström whom I've been meaning to hear properly for years after hearing about two and a half Tchaikovsky songs on radio late one night. One day. I don't quite see a future as a Leyla Gencer devotee stretching out in front of me but I definitely wouldn't say no to hearing more.

Classic Recitals: Joan Sutherland.
Well, having exhausted the solo discography of one Australian coloratura I had no choice but to try another, right? No of course I don't actually mean that. I have a lot of affection for Joanie. And very few recordings. But this one begins to address that situation and it's phenomenal. The one solo album I already owned, a disc of French arias from 1970, though pretty impressive in itself, did not prepare me for the astounding virtuosity and equally astounding gorgeousness of this recording. Surely the universe ought to have imploded the moment the record was made, just out of the sheer impossibility of it all.

Classic Recitals: Gwyneth Jones.
I've lost count of the number of times I've picked this up in CD stores around Australia, only to put it back in the end for whatever reason and choose something else. Finally this time I took it. I'll admit right now that the reason it's tempted me for so long is fantastically superficial. I love the cover photo. And her Marschallin on film is so beguiling I've always felt I should acquire a recording of her sometime. Now I have. I haven't heard it yet.

Gundula Janowitz: Mozart Concert Arias.
I've assumed for years, based solely on her repertoire, that I'd like Gundula Janowitz if ever I heard her. And amazingly, given my weakness for Mozart sopranos, it has taken until now for me to hear a single note. Truly. Unless I've forgotten something, which I don't think I have. Of course I was right and I like her a lot. Precisely my cup of tea. Which anybody with even the shakiest grasp of my taste in sopranos could no doubt have told me. The repertoire on this recording is, naturally, dazzlingly ideal. Refreshing too, because while I have innumerable Mozart aria discs, most are of opera arias rather than concert arias, and so for once there are tracks here which I don't have ten thousand other versions of.

Lucia di Lammermoor.
I bought two, both with Joan: a 1961 studio recording, and a 1982 film from the Met. I haven't got to either yet, but will. Apart from the fact that I shouldn't really be calling myself an opera devotee if I haven't heard Joan as Lucia, I'll be seeing my first live Lucia in Christchurch this year so I'd like to be somewhat acquainted with it, and I'd much rather learn with Joanie than with anybody else.

Roberto Devereux.
This was my greatest extravagance, a rather outrageously priced DVD from VAI, with Beverly Sills, whom I worship but have never yet seen in action, as Elisabetta. I'm certain this film can't be anything except fabulous in the extreme.

Andreas Scholl: Arias for Senesino.
I saw Andreas Scholl in recital while I was in Sydney (review forthcoming, probably). I decided on the spur of the moment while buying a programme that I'd get a CD as well - they had a number on sale - and chose this rather than Wayfaring Stranger (which is where the recital repertoire came from) as a slightly safer choice in view of my sensibilities. The recital was excellent, and this CD is too. To my ears he sounds best when in happy-in love or liltingly melancholy mode. The heroic coloratura is secure and masterfully executed to be sure, but slightly on the mechanical side; it's when he's allowed to sing a lover, rather than a fighter, that the sound and expression truly blossom. This is a mere quibble however, the CD is a success and an impulse buy I don't regret.

Graham Pushee: Handel Arias.
Graham Pushee is the Australian countertenor who is Cesare to Yvonne Kenny's Cleopatra in Opera Australia's 1994 Giulio Cesare. The one who even I concede might just be worthy of her. (Well maybe not quite, but almost.) It's not often that, while skipping merrily through DVD tracks to Yvonne's next aria, I stop and let one of the boys sing, but on occasion I've done just that for Graham. His is a sharper-edged sound than Andreas', but with equal capacity for great beauty and I'm looking forward to hearing this CD when I have the chance. As an added bonus, he's backed by the Brandenburg Orchestra, who also appear on Yvonne's disc of Handel arias and are meltingly superb.

Lucia Popp: Opera Arias.
Lucia is my operatic mother, certainly the most important single performer in the formation of my love of opera: both its existence and the shape it has taken. Because of that I listen to her in a way unlike any other singer: I'm unable to criticise or really even to analyse her singing. It's unconditional love. With others, it's possible for me to adore even while recognizing less-than-shining moments; with Lucia I wouldn't know how. I've also never been obsessed by her: she simply exists in my life and always has, literally since before I can remember. I only discovered recently that this recording existed; even though I've just made clear my total lack of critical credibility, let me tell you, it's breathtaking even by her own glorious standards. In fact I'd go so far as it to say it's perfect. It's also devastating. Recorded in 1983 this is so patently not the sound of a woman with only ten years left on the planet, a reminder of how prematurely she was taken away. The sound of greatness. (And now I've gone and upset myself.)

A Hundred Years of Italian Opera: 1820 - 1830.
I'm rather fond of obscure bel canto. The three volumes in this series by Opera Rara are beautifully presented, with copious and erudite notes, illustrations and some very talented singers to boot. They're on the expensive side, but not unreasonably so, given the quality and quantity of the music (or at least the recordings thereof) presented. Certainly a worthwhile purchase. I borrowed an earlier volume from the public library and it was wonderful. I'm glad to own it. But how shall I put this. These three discs include one trio, one duet and two arias featuring Yvonne Kenny and that's what I paid for. Without them, I may never have bought this set, at any price; because they're there, I'd have paid even more if required. In fact as far as I'm concerned, the aria "Ama ed amato io sono" on its own repays me in full. It's one of the most florid, testing pieces I've ever heard her sing; a fearless and electrifying yet always graceful performance, and so technically demanding it leaves me exhausted afterwards.