Bellini Norma Survey
Bellini Norma Survey
by Ralph Moore
There are around 130 recordings of Norma in the catalogue of which only ten were made in the
studio. The penultimate version of those was made as long as thirty-five years ago, then, after a long
gap, Cecilia Bartoli made a new recording between 2011 and 2013 which is really hors concours for
reasons which I elaborate in my review below. The comparative scarcity of studio accounts is
partially explained by the difficulty of casting the eponymous role, which epitomises bel canto style
yet also lends itself to verismo interpretation, requiring a vocalist of supreme ability and versatility.
Its challenges have thus been essayed by the greatest sopranos in history, beginning with Giuditta
Pasta, who created the role of Norma in 1831. Subsequent famous exponents include Maria
Malibran, Jenny Lind and Lilli Lehmann in the nineteenth century, through to Claudia Muzio, Rosa
Ponselle and Gina Cigna in the first part of the twentieth. Maria Callas, then Joan Sutherland,
dominated the role post-war; both performed it frequently and each made two bench-mark studio
recordings. Callas in particular is to this day identified with Norma alongside Tosca; she performed it
on stage over eighty times and her interpretation casts a long shadow over. Artists since, such as
Gencer, Caballé, Scotto, Sills, and, more recently, Sondra Radvanovsky have had success with it, but
none has really challenged the supremacy of Callas and Sutherland. Now that the age of expensive
studio opera recordings is largely over in favour of recording live or concert performances, and given
that there seemed to be little commercial or artistic rationale for producing another recording to
challenge those already in the catalogue, the appearance of the new Bartoli recording was a surprise,
but it sought to justify its existence via the claim that it authentically reinstates the integrity of
Bellini’s original concept in matters such as voice categories, ornamentation and instrumentation.
Dead at only thirty-three, Bellini nonetheless left us half a dozen masterpieces of which Norma and I
puritani are the best, replete with the long, flowing melodies which sent Verdi into ecstasies.
Greatest of those melodies is that showpiece aria “Casta diva”, performable only by a soprano of
supreme gifts; if it does not come off, the opera is fatally compromised. The simplicity of Romani’s
poetic utterance is couched in long, florid lines of melismata and ornamentation and it requires both
power and delicacy to encompass its demands.
Despite the allure of its principal role, Norma also offers juicy and highly dramatic parts to tenors,
mezzo-sopranos and even basses – although Oroveso is not perhaps among the plum bass role in the
operatic repertoire, the choruses are positively banal and there is nothing for a baritone. Adalgisa’s
arias, however, are enchanting and the duets between Norma and Adalgisa offer some of the most
beguiling singing in thirds in the whole operatic repertoire. The trios concluding Act 1, too, are
splendidly melodic and dramatic; the female voices entwine with a tenor who must be a singer of the
highest quality; great tenors who have evidently enjoyed displaying their trumpeting tones as
Pollione include Martinelli, Del Monaco, Vickers and Corelli, all of whose voices are beefier than what
Bellini had in mind, but Pollione’s martial arias and opportunities for grandstanding have proved
irresistible to a big-voiced tenors who must have the nerve to hit a resounding top C and a B flat
within a few minutes of his entrance – even though many cravenly duck it - as well as sounding like a
hero while essentially portraying one opera’s greatest ratfinks...
Sympathetic, flexible, idiomatic conducting and a fine orchestra matter, too, as some of the
instrumental writing is exquisite; I think particularly of the atmospheric prelude to Adalgisa’s first
entrance with “Sgombra è la sacra selva” or the sinuous introduction to the opera’s most famous
aria, “Casta diva”.
I assess below all ten studio recordings plus a selection of fourteen live performances. As with
previous surveys, I plead that I cannot begin to encompass everything available, but have aimed to
include here at least a sample of the most notable and interesting versions.
The recordings
Vittorio Gui – 1937 (studio mono) Cetra, Grammofono 2000, Opera d’Oro
Orchestra - EIAR Torino
Chorus - EIAR Torino
The first voice we hear is that of one of the great basses of that era, Tancredi Pasero whose, vibrant,
flickering voice with its fast vibrato pins backs the listener’s ears. Vittorio Gui, who also conducts an
excellent performance starring a young Callas in 1952 and reviewed next, really keeps things moving
so that the opera does not degenerate into a series of set pieces but relaxes during the most
affecting passages such as the duet “Mira, O Norma” to accommodate his singers and allow their
music to breathe. Tenor Giovanni Brevario has not the subtlest or most beautiful voice but he gives a
strong, virile account of Pollione. Cigna has none of Callas’ verbal acuity with the text but she has a
big, ductile soprano with a mezzo-ish tint and some slight squalliness up top betraying its origins in
that tessitura. She conveys a regal grandeur, albeit in a generalised way, and the pyrotechnics hold
no terrors for her. She is matched by a young Ebe Stignani in majestic voice, with a resonant lower
register and the steadiest of lines; she blends beautifully with Cigna.
Until the slurring inherent in the original 78s has been corrected via a Naxos or Pristine-type of
remastering this cannot be a strong recommendation as the constant slips and slides in pitch are
disconcerting, but it remains recommendable as a supplement for the enthusiast tolerant of
historical recordings, as the quality of performance is high.
On first listening, I was immediately struck by the firm, vibrant Oroveso, Giacomo Vaghi, then the
neat, virile tone of the Pollione, Mirto Picchi - a pity he completely shirks the opening top C and even
ducks the concluding B flat in “Me protegge”. Callas is never less than stellar in all the extant
recordings, both live and the two studio versions, and here she is once more in best voice for a role
which surely resonated more with her than Tosca, a character she actively disliked for all that her
assumption was definitive. With Stignani’s entrance we enter operatic heaven; her duets and trios
with Picchi and Callas are sheer delight.
Gui conducted the first complete recording fifteen years earlier and is completely at home in this
music.
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The sound is too poor – brash, tinny and a bit papery up top – for this to be a prime recommendation
but it’s listenable if you are habituated to historical sound. (This was for me the discovery of the
whole collection in the “Callas Live” set from Warner.)
It needs to be emphasised that this Divina issue is as authentic and complete a record of the live
1953 performance as can be bought, whereas the Melodram issue from 1991 is a complete
hodgepodge of a fabrication, patching the final result with snippets from recordings made between
1949 and 1958; thus, less than half the music there is from that evening of 19th November, 1953. No
doubt Melodram aimed simply to produce as close a representation as possible of that evening of
November 19th but it isn't an honest product insofar as the labelling gives no indication of the
disparate sources or of the fact that less than half of the music is from Trieste - it was in fact
ultimately withdrawn.
This Divina issue, however, is the real thing, having collected and re-mastered all the surviving
excerpts of the Trieste recording as could be found. It is thus almost complete, running to 100
minutes; notable omissions are the overture and practically two thirds of the music from the Act I
duet "Oh rimembranza!" but it would seem that this is as good as we are ever going to get unless
more supposedly lost material emerges.
All this and more regarding other Callas "fakes and forgeries" is explained in detail by Callas
enthusiasts and experts Milan Petkovic and Dr Robert E. Seletsky in the extensive and fascinating CD-
ROM support material, which includes articles regarding Callas in Norma, Tosca and Turandot,
photographs, reviews, audio samples, discographies and a catalogue.
Having said all that, it must be admitted that even after expert clean-up the muddy, distorted, mono
sound, plagued by interference, is such that it can only appeal to historical buffs. Ensemble is a
murky mess; Individual voices, however, emerge comparatively unscathed and with a cast such as
this it is there that most interest will be concentrated, opening with Christoff's grand, steady and
imposing Oroveso - his only one on record and easily the best of all accounts of the High Priest.
Corelli is in his sappiest, most ringing voice, the youthful tremulousness in his vibrato now under
control; despite the sheer size and voluptuousness of his sound he employs some pleasing subtleties
such as careful diminuendos - which became his trade mark and which perhaps contributed to his
decline. As is so often the case with a role which demands vocal heft and a trenchant lower register,
Elena Nicolai sounds a too mature and stentorian for the supposedly young and vulnerable Adalgisa,
but she shares that minor handicap with many a successful exponent of that role such as Stignani,
Cossotto and Tourangeau - and the voice per se is splendid.
Callas is in her finest vocal estate, just during her dramatic weight loss period and the onset of
insecurities. This is arguably her best "Casta diva" and virtually everything goes as she intends it to.
The later refinements which accompanied encroaching frailties are missing; she sings "straight" and
very beautifully. Were the sound better, I would unhesitatingly recommend it as her best outing as
Norma, but I still return to the 1955 performances with the same conductor and the other with
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Serafin, and even to the 1960 studio recording for the benefits of enhanced insight and more grateful
acoustics.
This is perhaps the best sung of all Callas' various recordings of Norma even if it is still in trying, albeit
re-mastered, sound. It also offers a lot of fascinating support material on CD-ROM.
I cannot give this recording an unqualified recommendation when there is competition of far greater
quality provided by Callas herself in her other recordings. No other artist, including Sutherland or
Caballé, can touch her from interpretative point of view, but if you want to hear her worthily
partnered, too, you need to go elsewhere
In truth, that great artist Ebe Stignani was sounding too mature for Adalgisa by this stage of her
career, Filippeschi is very ordinary and blaring as Pollione and Rossi-Lemeni is gruff, gritty and
unsteady of line compared with the smooth production of Zaccaria. I readily admit that if no other
recordings with Callas were available, I'd probably be happy with it. I keep the highlights disc, just to
hear Callas in best, youthful voice, but there are better options for a complete recording.
Callas is again in superb voice here but her performance for Votto later the same year is marginally
even better; furthermore, the later recording at La Scala, reviewed immediately below, now enjoys
the considerable advantage of Pristine’s remastering as well as having a better cast all-round.
Stignani’s mezzo sounds rather too mature for Adalgisa - indeed, her majestic delivery rather negates
any impression of vulnerability or naivety - and there is audible wear in her tone. Serafin moulds the
music more effectively than the passive Votto but that is not enough to swing the balance in favour
of this recording compared with the RAI/Pristine issue.
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Pristine Sound Engineer Andrew Rose tells us in the liner-notes that his research into which Callas
Norma to re-master indicated that this live 1955 performance was the best candidate - and I agree
with him. This performance probably enshrines the best of all Callas' many assumptions of this role
and Simionato's Adalgisa, in particular, is a performance to treasure. Del Monaco is a real Helden-
Pollione but not brutal or insensitive, nor necessarily inferior to Corelli's equally virile Roman in the
studio recording. Votto is a relaxed, pliant accompanist, reluctant to impose himself upon four such
experienced and musical soloists - and the supporting roles are well taken, too.
The RAI broadcast from earlier the same year is also estimable; it has the same two principals and
the advantage of Serafin’s more flexible conducting over the rather staid Votto but it must also be
said that the great Ebe Stignani was by that stage of her career rather mature for the youthful
Adalgisa, Giulietta Simionato’s impassioned singing is more apt, and Zaccaria is marginally preferable
over Modesti as Oroveso.
Rose tells us that his investigations revealed that the tapes of both this and that RAI performance
were sharp. He has corrected this fault here with the result that the voices sound fuller, richer and
altogether easier on the ear. Flutter has been removed and individual sound strands emerge more
cleanly and better differentiated instead of melding into the familiar orchestral mush. Following the
practice of previous issues, Rose has resorted to substituting the overture missing from the original
recording with that from the RAI broadcast and no-one is likely to complain or hear any difference.
The Pristine “Ambient Stereo” treatment also lends added presence to the rather thin, scratchy
sound whose relative inadequacy is more noticeable in purely orchestral rather than vocal passages.
This will never be an aural treat but Pristine’s re-mastering has given us the best we are ever going to
hear.
As the years go by, it is increasingly apparent that we shall not hear the likes of either Callas or Del
Monaco again. Even if their emphatic and even stentorian delivery is sometimes rather removed
from what we might expect from a quintessential bel canto opera we hear great delicacy and some
lovely divisions from Callas in her big arias. There will always be some flap and wobble even in her
finest recordings but these flaws are negligible alongside her peerless ability to inflect the music with
unforgettable intensity and pathos; this cleaned-up recording remains the finest memorial to her
most famous role.
Gabriele Santini – 1958 (live mono) Opera d'Oro, Myto, Living Stage, GOP
Orchestra - Teatro dell'Opera di Roma
Chorus - Teatro dell'Opera di Roma
Anita Cerquetti's career was very short, so any addition to the two commercial recordings she made
is welcome, and this is the most famous of her live performances, made at her peak while only
twenty-six years old. Her career was to last only four more years and one can only wonder what she
might have done had she been able to continue but it was not to be.
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The fame of this performance is enhanced by the fact that she took over from an ailing Maria Callas
and triumphed as Norma. Italian audiences loved her and you can clearly hear why here. I say
"clearly" but in fact the sound is pretty dismal and it makes little difference which label you buy -
Opera d'Oro, Myto, Living Stage or GOP - they are all the same as the sound is irredeemably dim and
distant and I doubt whether even Andrew Rose could work much Pristine magic on it, although he
has yet to try. It is dry, peaky and boomy, the orchestra and chorus badly recessed, so that we can
only just hear how energised the choral singing and conducting are; Santini was of course a safe pair
of hands.
But the cast is stellar: Corelli is in finest, most ringing and heroic voice, the vibrato attractively fast
but not irksome or obtrusive in the way that early in his career earned him the cruel nickname
"Pecorelli" ("Little sheep" or perhaps better, "Baa-lamb"). He is impassioned and virile; surely the
best Pollione ever. Giulio Neri's bass is impressively cavernous, if rather "woofy" to my ears; a mere
four months later this great artist was dead from a heart attack at only 49. Miriam Pirazzini is very
good, if not quite n the same class as the greatest exponents of the role of Adalgisa, such as Stignani,
Simionato, Cossotto, Ludwig and Horne. The supporting cast features the ubiquitous comprimario
tenor Piero De Palma and Sumi Jo's teacher, Gianella Borelli.
But what of Cerquetti? Hers was a huge, clear, bright, steady soprano, utterly even throughout its
range (if with a slightly "short" top with the occasional slightly screamed top C), tackling the
coloratura with ease, evincing no strain in sustaining long legato lines and bringing plenty of
temperament to her characterisation. Perhaps all she lacks is the last ounce of individuality which
marks out the Normas of Callas and Ponselle, but her Norma is still mightily secure and satisfying.
She brings surprising delicacy to the conclusion of "Casta diva" and the enraptured audience moos
with pleasure, awarding her an ovation which lasts over two minutes and is included in its entirety
here. The series of duets between Norma and Adalgisa at the beginning of Act 2 is sublime.
This cannot be a first recommendation but it is surely a desirable supplement for the Norma
aficionado, as long as the trying sound can be endured.
This recording has the advantage of being studio recorded in good stereo sound – very welcome
after all those tinny, live mono recordings - and also partners Callas with superlative singers in Corelli,
Ludwig and - for the third time - Zaccaria. Callas' voice had not so much deteriorated by the time of
this recording, apart from a few flapping top notes; the decline in her voice was not a linear process,
as her later recordings of La gioconda and the 1960 Norma testify, Furthermore, there are huge
compensations in the delicacy of her characterisation; she introduces new subtleties and even when
her voice does not quite do her bidding you can sense the emotions guiding it.
The cast here is glamorous and indeed there is an air of glamour about the whole thing, starting with
Corelli’s glorious tenor. I just drink in Corelli’s voice and when he obliges us by sailing up to the top C
that occurs a few bars into his first aria, “Meco all’altar di Venere”, I can’t stop grinning. There is a
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such pathos, such tenderness, such a depth of suffering in Callas’ vocalisation that I can easily forgive
the odd wobble and a little loosening. Ludwig was a clever and unexpected choice; she has depth of
tone without sounding the least bit too old and the role sits squarely in the middle of her lustrous
mezzo-soprano and the fervent feeling with which she invests “Deh, proteggemi, O Dio!” matches
Callas for intensity.
Serafin has the advantage of an orchestra which plays beautifully and he supports his singers ideally
without unduly lingering. The cumulative combination of the advantages of this recording makes it
highly desirable.
It is true that I sometimes find Bonynge's beat here a bit limp and I concede that to love this set you
must have a taste for Sutherland's soprano. To some, she was and remains the prima donna assoluta
in her chosen territory and even if she sometimes lacks the variety of a soprano sfogato like Callas,
her singing per se is often simply breath-taking. What trills, what legato, what agility. As always, the
power as she rises up and above the stave is astonishing and she is worthily partnered, especially by
Marilyn Horne who, despite being neither the soprano for whom the role was written or having a
voice which sounds as if it would complement her Norma, seems to match Sutherland perfectly. One
reason is the complete unity of their phrasing; they listen carefully and match each other perfectly in
those passages in thirds.
Both Americans John Alexander and Richard Cross, despite having distinguished careers, were
relatively little recorded but they really shine here, having refined, passionate, properly registered
voices of the old school. Alexander is especially virile and impressive, avoiding the clumsiness which
sometimes afflicted the Pollione of tenors like Del Monaco and Corelli without ever sounding effete.
You can find some very strange, absurd and off-base reviews of this landmark recording. It was
Norma, along with Lucia and Alcina which put Sutherland on the map as one of the greatest
dramatic-lyric coloratura sopranos ever and enabled her to consolidate what Callas had begun in
wresting such roles away from tweety-birds to big-voiced singers able to do them proper justice. One
of the daftest things I read too often is the "theory" that she was a pushed-up mezzo; I am quite
certain that no singer whose true Fach lay in a lower tessitura could expand the way she does as she
soars up to top C, D and E-flat.
The later recording has its merits but this is closer to perfection and captures Sutherland in her
youthful prime shortly after she burst upon the operatic world.
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Recording companies lamentably neglected Leyla Gencer, so we invariably have to hear her in what
used to be called “pirate” recordings. This one is in excellent mono sound, conducted in spirited
fashion by the ever-reliable Gavazzeni. This was obviously a prestigious production with a star cast of
La Scala regulars. Matters open promisingly with Zaccaria’s instantly-recognisable bass although the
potential weak link is the tenor, Bruno Prevedi – a good but never quite front-rank singer. He had an
attractive, baritonal timbre which reminds me of Bonisolli and no unpleasant mannerisms. He is not
especially stylish and sometimes a bit effortful, edging just under the note, but he is just about
competent. The trouble is, much better tenors like Corelli ring in the ears.
Of course, Gencer is wonderful; she, too, has an inimitable tone: rich, flexible, with a little glottal
catch in it which is always suggestive of tears and the audience clearly approves. She is matched by
Simionato whose powerful mezzo negotiates Adalgisa’s music easily even if she sounds too smoky,
stentorian and sophisticated for the role. Their partnership will appeal to many, Gavazzeni allows
them to linger over the cantilena passages in their duets and their voices blend and entwine
deliciously. However, there are some intonation issues there, too, and other recordings offer a more
completely satisfying experience.
My own copy of this 2CD set was expertly and privately re-mastered for personal use and not as a
commercial issue, but this Decca recording has now once more become available to both lovers of
the opera and of Elena Souliotis (spelled “Suliotis” in her earliest public incarnation), whose career
and indeed life were both sadly curtailed; she died of heart failure aged 61 having long previously
retired.
I am indebted to my skilled amateur sound engineer friend who provided me with the CDs for the
following information: originally released in 1968, it was one of the last LPs to be issued in both
mono and stereo versions, although the latter was available only in the US, on the London label. It
remained available through the early 70's after only one pressing batch and then disappeared, apart
from the highlights discs on both Decca and London.
In fact even that "complete" recording was not: in order to fit it onto four LP sides rather than the
normal six, the producers opted to trim it by adopting the regular, small stage cuts and some of what
must admittedly be adjudged the more banal music, such as the first rum-ti-tum Druid march before
"Casta diva", which is in any case repeated later, some cabaletta repeats, an internal cut in "Qual cor
tradisti, qual cor perdesti" and, more substantially, the whole first scene of Act II, "Ah! del Tebro".
This reduces the role of the chorus and considerably shortens Oroveso's part to that of an "extended
comprimario". It is strongly sung by Carlo Cava but the reduction in his music is no great loss and
what remains is priceless: three great voices giving it their all. For me, as so often in this opera, the
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highlight is the extended trio at the climax concluding Act I; we shall not again hear three voices like
theirs singing out with such wild abandon.
Del Monaco was in his early fifties when this recording was made and beginning to slide in his attack
on top notes but still in typically marvellous, trumpeting voice, even if he may be heard to greater
advantage in live recordings with Callas in the mid 1950's.
Souliotis' good fortune was to arrive on the operatic scene just as Callas' star was dimming; her
mistake was to attempt and give too much too soon. Only 24 at the time - under half her tenor's age
- she clearly lacks a finished technique: the registers are disjointed and she sometimes resorts to a
strange, disembodied and unsupported crooning when trying to sing high-flying passages softly, as in
"teneri figli", and yet it is too easy to carp when so much else is simply wonderful. I find that her
voice exercises a strange fascination, it is such an individual instrument. Comparisons with Callas are
inevitable, not to the detriment of either singer, but because both have such a gift for enlivening and
declaiming text and both make such telling use of their trenchant lower registers at such points as in
her recitative before "Casta diva" on "Romani" and "morra", and "ed odio" at the beginning of Act II.
Vocal production can be lumpy and vibrations fluttery, yet she can cope with the fioriture of "Ah!
bello a me ritorna" and the sheer size of the instrument matches that of her fellow singers.
We are blessed in the presence of the young Fiorenza Cossotto in one of her most celebrated roles,
which she sang alongside Callas; she is simply flawless, easily encompassing the wide tessitura of
Adalgisa's part and absolutely thrilling when singing her duet with Del Monaco.
The recording is excellent, made in a big, broad acoustic rather than the over-miked sound we hear
too often today which is presumably engineered to compensate for voices being too small. Varviso's
conducting is wonderfully energised; he takes quite a few passages a little faster than is normal - for
example, the glorious harmonised-in-thirds music whose soft tread accompanies Adalgisa's first
entrance - but he also knows when to relax and give his singers space - and sometimes Souliotis
evidently really needs it simply to get the notes out; this is one of the killer roles of all opera. This
was, Souliotis apart, an all-Italian production and it is infused with dramatic energy. The cuts mean it
cannot be a first recommendation but I love it.
This set is a terrific bargain; not only do you get the finest of extant recordings, live and studio, of
Sutherland's Norma but you get it in excellent sound and with a superb supporting cast. Sutherland
sounds both more vocally "released" and more profound in characterisation; I think the process of
studio recording and the difficulties inherent in capturing her vast voice inhibited her and here you
can hear her let rip free of constraint. That's just as well, because in 1969 the stentorian Cossotto is
just entering upon her default grandstanding mode of singing everything con gusto - great for
Amneris but hardly apt for the passive, suffering Adalgisa. Still, her singing as vocalisation per se is
thrilling, even if her audible gasps of breath intake, her "life begins at forte" approach and the way
she signals then pounces on a high note can all be distracting mannerisms; she was obviously intent
upon avoiding being upstaged by Sutherland and takes every opportunity to plunge thunderously
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into her lower register and belt out the B's to match Sutherland's higher top notes, even when it's
not very musical. Meanwhile, Sutherland's coloratura is perfect, better than in any other account of
hers I have heard; this, combined with that greater depth of feeling, makes this performance her
best.
Bonynge, too, sounds more relaxed and pliant, yet also energised, in this live performance. He has
the advantage of first-rate singers even if the Colon orchestra is not always sweetly tuned. While
Corelli will always be my benchmark for Pollione, the under-rated and under-valued (in the UK, at
least) Charles Craig runs him close, a little scooping and the occasional hard top note apart. He
sounds like a great tenor - which I think he must have been. Cossotto's then husband, Ivo Vinco,
makes a great job of Oroveso; he had a beautiful, Italianate bass with plenty of bite and rises to the
company he is in on stage.
I still return to the 1960 Callas recording for the ultimate Norma but this one preserves the miracle
that was Sutherland's Norma without your having to compromise on the performance as a whole, as
everything else is so good. Audience noise is minimal except for vociferous applause. I suspect that
either the transfer or the original tape is slightly sharp but it doesn't bother me. The sound is good,
clear mono – so full that at first I thought it was primitive stereo.
NB: be aware that a faulty copying process resulted in earlier Opera d’Oro issues of this recording
suffering from two faults: unwanted gaps between tracks when the music was supposed to be
continuous and a transfer a whole tone too high; this was apparently a flaw peculiar to a particular
batch, now mostly corrected apart from the minimal sharpness I note above, so check that you have
one of the later issues if you buy it.
For fans of Souliotis and the opera in question, the main advantage of this live recording over the
abridged studio recording she made four years earlier lies in the fact that it delivers the whole score
and Souliotis is, if anything, in marginally more secure voice despite all her failings and frailties and
the fact that her career was virtually over a mere couple of years later.
It is still a Marmite voice; listening to proceedings here I felt like a shuttlecock battered between two
extremes of delight and frustration. At times the intensity of Souliotis' singing is mesmerising; sample
the opening of Act II from the recitativo "Dormono entrambi" through to "Teneri figli". Yet I advise
no-one to listen to the first minute of track 21, CD1, "Ah sì, fa core, m'abbracciami" unless you want
to hear some really poor and squally singing from our wayward heroine. There are perhaps too many
ugly moments for repeated listening but to offset that, there are also many moments when she
sounds uncannily like Callas and plumbs the same emotional depths. Hers was a huge, commanding
voice with a pronounced break between the registers which, again like Callas, she exploits for great
emotional effect. Sometimes her fioriture are clean, sometimes sloppy and laboured; at certain key
points she sings precisely and at others she sounds laboured and unwieldy - all over the place but
always so committed. Her tone can be hoarse and harsh, yet again sweet and pure, depending on
where she is in the score and she invariably sings in tune. It makes for a thrilling ride.
It helps that she is accompanied by a distinguished cast, headed by the great Fiorenza Cossotto,
repeating a role which was her mainstay throughout the 60's and 70's with a host of prime donne
from Callas to Sutherland to Caballé. She is extraordinary; at the point referred to above at the end
of Act I when Souliotis fouls up, she repeats the same musical phrases immaculately like a singing
lesson. Her top notes tend to be better, too, although to be fair the best of the singing here is in the
duets when Souliotis is on song; "Mira, o Norma" is exquisite.
To complete this trio of can belto singers we have baritonal tenor Gianfranco Cecchele, singing in a
wholly reliable, stentorian and unvaried manner, rather like a slightly sub-par Mario del Monaco at
his best. I don't mean to be snide; he's very good and had the misfortune to be overshadowed by a
glut of great Italian tenors in his day. He is sometimes a bit clumsy but prolific of voice and a match
for his ladies.
Ivo Vinco makes a fine job of Oroveso - always a bit of a bore - with his clean, incisive bass. The La
Scala forces under de Fabritiis - a conductor very experienced in this opera - are excellent here in
Tokyo. Unfamiliarity with operatic conventions results in some ill-timed audience applause which is
increasingly edited out at the opera progresses, but the stereo sound is really first rate for a live
recording and there is otherwise virtually no noise from the audience.
There are several great live performances of Norma to be found on the Gala label. None of them is,
in my view, preferable to the later Callas studio recording, but they are excellent second or
supplementary sets. A preference very much depends upon the kind of voices you like; I admire
Sutherland enormously and here she is found at her very peak, singing superbly in the higher keys
rather than the versions transposed down a tone as preferred by most singers who undertake this
cruelly taxing role. She is here partnered by first rate singers - not the usual suspects but they are
wholly up to the demands of their roles. John Alexander sings better than I have ever heard him
elsewhere (including the studio version of ten years earlier); he has real steel in his voice.
Tourangeau employs her impressive range and booming lower register to characterise Adalgisa
formidably without making her seem matronly; she makes some rather grinding gear changes
between registers, but it is nonetheless an exciting sound - and she matches Sutherland note for
note in the passages sung in thirds, complete with a great top C. I always enjoy Clifford Grant’s
splendid bass. The sound is not that wonderful for so comparatively recent a recording - a bit boxy
and limited - but it is perfectly listenable. This set is available ridiculously cheaply and
commemorates what was obviously a great occasion at the San Francisco opera.
This is a complete recording of Norma, without the usual stage cuts which disfigure most other
recordings including all of those featuring the singer who is for many the ultimate High Priestess,
Maria Callas. The cuts are not large but for completists that is recommendation enough, especially
given the starry nature of the 1973 cast.
However, the singing per se is good enough reason to acquire it, even if there is for me some small
taint of the assembly line approach to recording which could afflict the industry in its heyday, when
complete recordings were being churned out with gay abandon to a receptive and increasingly
affluent LP market. There is no doubt, for example that there is more excitement, glamour and allure
to be found in Caballé's live recording a year or so later when she faces down the Mistral in Orange,
partnered by Jon Vickers, but the sound there is nowhere near as good, of course and as a studio
recording this one could hardly sound better for its era. It is on three CDs when it could have been
fitted on to two, has been well remastered and comes with a libretto which for some reason ascribes
four Acts to the opera (it has but two) and gets confused about the scene numbers; never mind.
Not everything about Caballé's singing is ideal, she can sound generalised compared with Callas'
exquisitely subtle and thrillingly dramatic word-painting and when she sings forcefully her tone can
turn harsh and some of those irritating little glottal catches intrude, but of course her floated, soft
singing is a dream. Domingo is in youthful, sappy voice, only just squeezing out his one top C in his
opening aria but otherwise very acceptable, if hardly as visceral as Corelli or Del Monaco. Cossotto as
Adalgisa consciously and effectively softens her naturally big, brazen tone in order to convey her
naivety and vulnerability; she blends well with her co-star in those vital duets, although in "Opera on
Record", reviewer Andrew Porter waspishly but not entirely inaccurately describes their partnership
as the sound of "two big, healthy girls jogging along in full, splendid cry"! Raimondi is a fine Oroveso,
a little lighter than the usual bass in that role but affecting and authoritative. The two British
supporting singers are ideal, especially Kenneth Collins as Flavio, who was a celebrated tenor in his
own right.
Cillario's conducting is unobtrusive and he gives his singers space to bring out the beauty of Bellini's
long, legato line. The Ambrosian Chorus - ubiquitous in major label recordings for twenty years from
the mid-sixties onwards - do their usual impeccable job.
Sills comments about some parts of the role “making her want to giggle” might suggest too
lightweight and flippant an approach to it; furthermore, her decision to sing her arias, like
Sutherland, in the original higher keys and to adopt very slow tempos, in combination with bird-like
timbre of her lyric coloratura soprano means that to some ears she will sound all wrong as Norma.
The slight beat in her voice is not too pronounced and does not bother me, especially as she sings so
intelligently. Despite not having the largest voice, she sang the role live successfully – she, too was
very instrumental in the bel canto revival - and displays exceptional breath control and agility, even if
she has little of the gravitas Sutherland brings to her portrayal; her forte is melancholy and pathos. It
helps that she is partnered with Shirley Verrett, who, like fellow mezzo Grace Bumbry, eventually
sang the title role herself when she moved up into dramatic soprano roles, and has a nicely
contrasting sound which nonetheless blends well.
I cannot help feeling that those very slow tempi are rather laboured and self-conscious and prevent
the music from generating sufficient drama and momentum, for all that the singing per se is lovely
and it is a pleasure to hear singers whose intonation is so accurate; so often it can be hit and miss in
Norma. However, the pace picks up in duets like “Si, fino all’ore”, sung in the original F major rather
than a tone down as we usually hear it; Verrett copes well with that higher key but brings a grave,
steady beauty to her own arias, again delivered at a slow tempo. In truth, the more I listen to them,
the more I enjoy luxuriating in the sheer beauty of their sound but I can’t really defend Levine’s
leisureliness which at times becomes lugubriousness.
On the staff side, the casting is less impressive. Enrico Di Giuseppe has a smaller, lighter tenor than
we have become accustomed to, even though he is probably closer to what Bellini would have heard.
His low notes are weak and his plaintive, nasal timbre is of no great distinction. Paul Plishka is much
better but he hasn’t the rolling splendour of the best Italian basses.
The sound is excellent and the New Philharmonia plays elegantly. Sills fans will want this for her
exquisite singing but she does not scale the tragic heights as do the greatest exponents of the role
and the ensemble does not match the best recordings.
OK; let's be positive and start with the good news: this enshrines the most wondrous performance of
Caballé's career. Her melismata, breath control, diction, downward runs and sheer beauty of tone
are indeed things of wonder. Something about the prospect of cancellation, once the Mistral began
to whip down the Rhone valley, inspired her to become one with the elements and deliver an
elemental interpretation. The gale chilled the audience and audibly buffets the microphones. You
may see Caballé on the video (either on YouTube or you may buy the poor-quality DVD), standing
immobile and braced against the wind, yards of chiffon billowing behind her and singing as if she
were in the comparative comfort of a recording studio but upping the intensity and volume of her
voice as if to defy the wind to carry her voce away. Her legendary floated pianissimi are often in
evidence yet always audible; her delicacy is breath-taking yet there is power aplenty when she
furiously denounces the faithless Pollione. This is nonetheless a gentler, more feminine Norma than
Callas gives us; on these discs the scene in which she briefly contemplates stabbing her own children
is cut but I believe it is extant on the filmed version. However, I also recall reading that it was
sometimes excised from her performances of Norma because she played the kind of woman who
could not conceivably contemplate committing such a dreadful act; be that as it may, this is a
characterisation for posterity.
Her interpretation is complemented by a powerful, virile, but somehow likeable Pollione from
Vickers. He does not take the thrilling top note options like Corelli but comes across as less of a
thoughtless cad. The ever-under-rated Josephine Veasey is a plausible and musical Adalgisa and the
supporting cast is fine. Conductor Patanè performs the near impossible feat under the conditions of
mostly keeping it all together despite a few disjunctures between orchestra and singers and he never
lets proceedings drag.
So, the bad news? Mostly the cut mentioned above and above all the hollow mono sound, of course:
it sounds for much of the time as if the singers are in a wind tunnel. The boomy, echoing acoustic is
not just the result of the performance taking place in the Orange amphitheatre; it's just done on poor
equipment. (Opera d'Oro gives the location of this recording as being Torino; of course, it isn't but
that is the origin of the orchestra and chorus.)
This isn't one for audiophiles or opera neophytes but all canary-fanciers will want to own it.
Tempted into trying this by some enthusiastic reviews, I find my own enthusiasm for it to be
tempered by some drawbacks which its admirers seem not to hear or remain untroubled by. The
main issue here for me is Deutekom's tuning. She has a surprisingly strong powerful voice for a singer
who was a famous coloratura and sang lyric roles such as the Queen of the Night to great acclaim (as
per her account in Solti's earlier Magic Flute), especially in her lower register. She attacks the music
with real confidence and vigour. The warbling vibrato which bothers many is not too obtrusive here
but there is an odd change of gear in her vocal production as the voice ascends and in the mid-range
the vibrato seems to be permanently centred under the note to produce an effect decidedly flat -
and I'm afraid I find it painful to listen to for all her accomplishment. Indeed, in the famous duet with
Adalgisa in which the singers shadow each other in thirds Deutekom pulls Troyanos down with her to
end very flat indeed, nearer a B than the tonic C. That's a negligible flaw in a live performance but
again makes for uncomfortable listening. I admire so much that Deutekom does: the delicacy and
poise of her soft singing and the clarity of her divisions - but I cannot get over her intonation.
Troyanos' velvety sound is a real bonus; what a lovely singer she was, and here she is more
impassioned than was sometimes the case with an artist who could be temperamentally cool. The
other vocal treat here is Clifford Grant's rich, flexible bass with its distinctive timbre.
The Pollione - a second rank tenor now largely forgotten - is a crude, unsteady belter without much
tonal allure and an effortful production; too many better tenors come to mind when he is pounding
away: Corelli, Del Monaco, Vickers, even Charles Craig and John Alexander.
The sound is tolerable mono, perfectly listenable without too much distortion and some wibbling
background noise/print-through on the tape. The conducting is unexceptional/unexceptionable and
workmanlike without subtlety. Not for me; I offloaded this one.
The mono sound here is rather hollow, with some wavering, background twittering and drop-outs in
the tape, but it’s tolerable.
Obviously, the main interest here is Grace Bumbry’s brief assumption of the title role in her dramatic
soprano phase; she soon reverted to Adalgisa, but the first impression we receive is of Robert Lloyd’s
sonorous, strongly sung Oroveso. The under-recorded Giacomini, too, makes an impact with his
large, bronze tenor; he is a singer to revival Corelli for amplitude of tone but he eschews some top
notes and can be rather unvarying in his delivery, rarely attempting beneath mezzo-forte. Lella
Cuberli sings a capable Adalgisa of no great distinction.
Ensemble and synchronisation among the soloists and chorus can be precarious, the orchestra has its
share of rough moments and bloopers and Halász’ conducting is rather stolid and uninspired. Despite
some lovely moments from Bumbry, such as the last scene where the lie of the music, as in “In mia
man”, most suits the darker colour of the centre of her voice, one gets the impression that she hasn’t
fully digested the part (her coeval and possessor of a similar voice-type, Shirley Verrett, made the
transition more successfully). There is no question whether Bumbry has enough voice; she sings a
strong, direct, rather formidable Norma mostly without great nuance and occasionally her vibrato
becomes obtrusive. Ultimately, this performance emerges more as an enjoyable sideshow of
historical interest compared with the most gripping competition.
In good, clean, if limited, mono sound (but a muttering prompter is constantly audible) this recording
immediately makes a good impression with an energised overture followed by the entry of Ferrin’s
imposing bass. Ermanno Mauro will be no-one’s favourite Pollione; he is similar to Prevedi above in
that he is rather stentorian and unvaried, without finesse but able to encompass the notes - and to
his credit he takes the top C in his opening aria powerfully, head on – then ducks the concluding top
note in “Meco all’altar”. Scotto is in vibrant voice – better than in her studio recording for Levine the
following year – always tending towards the harsh and flapping at volume above the stave but also
enlivening the text and singing out fearlessly. Some of her coloratura work is impressive and she also
produces some lovely pianissimo and portamento effects to rival Caballé. I find her arty, artful
manner in “Casta diva” too close to crooning, however, and there is a suspicion of her being under
the note throughout as a result of the lack of support in her tone. Rinaldi’s lyric soprano in
insufficiently differentiated from Scotto’s - there is a reason why the role is usually given to a mezzo
even though the indications are that Giulia Grisi, who created it, was a lyric soprano – but she sings
most feelingly, sounds more like a young girl than many a tough mezzo, and there are some
interesting moments when her voice soars above Scotto’s as per the original score. This recording
contains some lovely things but ultimately emerges as a bit anonymous, lacking the charisma and
distinction of the best versions.
As you might expect, given that she had a voice that could sing practically anything, Shirley Verrett
makes a strong, positive Norma and here she sings out confidently in live performance – no fudging
or nudging but every note hit head on and cleanly articulated, although don’t look for much vocal
nuance in the form of anything floated or piano. Her range is extraordinary: she has a secure top C,
her lower register has a Callas-like bite and she enunciates the text clearly - but with a peculiar
tendency to distort the “e” vowel, turning it into an “I”, so “queste” becomes “quiste” and “terra” is
“tirra”. In many respects, she is similar to her great Afro-American, mezzo-soprano coeval Grace
Bumbry, who made the same upward transition but wisely abandoned the role much sooner than
Verrett, who is more comfortable there and kept it in her repertoire from 1976 right towards the end
of her career., singing it for the last time in Messina in 1989.
Her co-singers make a surprisingly strong team, given that they do not feature the biggest names.
Booming Australian bass Clifford Grant is superb – as he is in virtually everything I have heard him in.
The young Bulgarian Alexandrina Milcheva is equally excellent, with a warm, rich, even mezzo,
ringing top notes and a timbre reminiscent of Tatiana Troyanos. She blends well with Verrett; it’s a
pity that they go flat in the a cappella coda to “Oh! rimembranza!”
Pollione is sung by the Neapolitan tenor Nunzio Tedesco, a singer unknown to me, now retired and
apparently largely forgotten today but he had a good career, He has a strong, incisive tenor of the
Bonisolli type and is never in danger of being drowned out by Verrett’s voluminous soprano
falcon/sfogato. His vibrato is rather too pronounced but the volume and firmness of tone are
welcome, even if, in line with this performance as a whole, refinements are few.
I really like the contribution of conductor Paolo Pelosi – again, an artist previously unknown to me -
he does everything right, giving his singers rein when they need it but always driving the
performance forward.
This is a grand, large-scale performance which deserves wider circulation. It’s not subtle and the
sound is merely acceptable, but it enshrines some great singing.
This recording is promising in many ways: it restores many cuts, including passages where Adalgisa’s
line is higher than Norma’s, the original ending to the first Act and some additional music in the
famous duet “Mira, O Norma”; it is studio-made and in excellent stereo sound; it fields a superb
orchestra and chorus; its distinguished cast of singers includes favourite, velvety mezzo Troyanos and
the under-recorded Giacomini; finally, it is conducted by a young James Levine in typically energised,
up-and-at-’em mode, giving full rein to the proto-Romantic sweep of the music but less inclined to
wallow than in his other studio recording six years earlier with Sills.
Plishka, too, is more resonant and imposing than for Levine in that earlier recording and his Italian is
excellent, even if a slight cloudiness in his tone is not so “Italianate”. Giacomini, too, doesn’t have the
squillo ideally heard in a Pollione, but his hefty tenor is big and handsome without a hint of bleat or
wobble and an attractively fast, flickering vibrato; he makes a good job of his opening aria, whacking
out a slightly effortful but convincing top C and sounding like a proper military Roman, not the
potboy we sometimes get from weedier tenors. His vocal production does not lend itself to great
tonal variety but it’s still a pleasure to listen to such a virile sound; the contrast when tenor Paul
Crook squeakily announces Norma’s arrival is comical.
Troyanos is ideal as Adalgisa because although her mezzo-soprano is rich and honeyed, the Supervia-
like fast vibrato makes her sound young, nervous and vulnerable, not a vengeful termagant. She a
mellow lower register but a light, easy top range, enabling her to encompass those aforementioned
higher-lying lines.
You might have noticed that I have left my assessment of Scotto to last. As ever, you can hear how
much she consciously or unconsciously modelled her Norma on Callas. There is a lot of edge and
glottal catch in her tonal emission which can catch both the microphone and the ear ungratefully
and, as ever, top notes spread, but the floated pianissimi are intact and her passion and commitment
are never in doubt. “Casta diva” is decidedly better than in her live recording under Muti from the
previous year but the pulsed and squeezed sustained top A is frankly ugly and the cabaletta,
transposed down a tone, is clumsy, especially from a singer who previously specialised in coloratura
roles. She improves after that but there are still some harsh and squally moments.
If the central performance were more consistent, this would be a more recommendable option.
Sutherland had just turned 58 at the time of her second studio recording, so it is fair to note that her
voice had lost some of its resonance in its middle and acquired something of a pulse, but it was still a
thing of wonder and beauty. The cast assembled around her could hardly have been bettered.
Pavarotti’s youthful glory years, too were behind him but he was only in his late forties and his voice
was still resplendent. Additional interest is provided by the fact Caballé, a true soprano - and a great
one, too – is singing Adalgisa - and a soprano Adalgisa appears to have been Bellini’s original intent.
Ramey was the basso cantante du jour and even the very minor roles of Clotilde and Flavio are sung
by the excellent Diana Montague and Kim Begley respectively. We hear lovely playing from the WNO,
relaxed, flexible conducting from Bonynge and the usual first-rate Decca sound and the off-stage
band effects are neatly managed. The original issue was on three CDs with an introductory essay, a
synopsis, illustrations and a four-language libretto to complete a prestige project; the re-issue offers
an online libretto.
Samuel Ramey’s Oroveso is a little lighter than normal but his lean, resonant tone cuts through the
chorus and orchestra. Pavarotti doesn’t have the heft of Corelli or Del Monaco, but, like Ramey, the
beauty and incisiveness of his timbre prove very satisfying and his careful inflection if the recitativo is
a noticeable feature of his singing – pleasing from a tenor who was sometimes satisfied merely to
“stand and sing”. The top C is duly delivered without fuss. He benefits from Bonynge’s sympathetic
tempi and willingness to permit rubato in the phrasing, nor, contrary to some reports, does he sound
bored or uninvolved.
Sutherland’s voice is still clearly very large and flexible; the slight huskiness at its centre and
encroaching beat do not really much compromise its beauty and it remains impressive. She does not
sing her big arias in the original keys as she did twenty years earlier but the coloratura of “Ah! bello a
me ritorna” is thrilling and the top C concluding the first scene and the top D at the end of Act 1 are
still very much in place – indeed powerful and prolonged.
It is fascinating to hear how Caballé – a great Norma herself – adapts her voice to both the role of
Adalgisa and to Sutherland’s Norma. This is a performance full of vocal delicacy and textual nuance
that shows up how plain some mezzos are in their delivery of the part; right from her first recitative,
“Sgombra è la sacra selva”, Caballé puts her mark on the role and creates a sympathetic, fully
rounded character. I actually prefer her Adalgisa to her Norma and would go as far as to say that it is
the best on record. To take but one example, her floated G flat on “Ah! perduta io son” is simply
exquisite and such felicities abound. The duets between the two ladies are delectable and it is
noticeable how crisp Sutherland’s diction is here following her consonant-swallowing phase.
Similarly, the great Act 2 trio “Norma! de’ tuoi rimproveri” goes with a swing, actually benefitting
from a tempo slightly more relaxed than usual.
Given the bad press this has received from some quarters, I had not expected my reacquaintance
with it to be such a positive experience but I enjoy it very much and cannot agree that it was made
too late in Sutherland’s long career. I suggest that to experience her performance at its best, this
recording should be played loud to recreate the undoubted impact of her voice in the theatre.
Nearly everything about this recording is different, which is why I think it has almost to be considered
as a thing apart from mainstream recordings.
First, its format: it is lavishly presented in bound, hardback book form with the CDs at each end,
numerous photographs, many depicting Bartoli as a tousled, distraught Norma, some with heaving
cleavage on display suggestive of verismo torment, several short essays and transcriptions of
conversations, in three languages, explaining the rationale behind the edition used here, track
listings, a synopsis and – mirabile dictum – a complete, quadrilingual (the original Italian, with
English, French and German translations) libretto.
Secondly, the edition: it is the product of a critical study of the manuscript and other sources by
musicologist Maurizio Biondi and conductor-violinist Riccardo Minasi, which attempts to re-create
the authentic vocal style and instrumental sonorities of what would have been heard at the opera’s
premiere. Original instruments are employed, playing at 430Hz, about a quarter tone lower than
modern pitch. Cuts dating back to the 1950’s have been restored and some additional musical
material has been inserted, including a coda extension to the chorus "Guerra, guerra" and additional
solo verses in the confrontational trio ending Act 1. The return to a soprano Adalgisa and Bellini’s
original keys for her and Norma’s music aims to restore the composer’s concept. This is not,
however, strictly speaking the first attempt to return to the original score; a performance on DVD
was issued in 2001 using an edition prepared by scholar Philip Gossett and there are several
precedents for a soprano Adalgisa, including Caballé, Margherita Rinaldi and Lella Cuberli as per
above, but this is by far the most radical.
The result is a version sounding very different from traditional recordings: everything conspires
towards producing a brighter, leaner sound. The period specialist orchestra, drawn mostly from the
Zurich Opera, has gut strings, a recorder and a soft-toned, wooden transverse flute, harder timpani
and natural horns; the voices are lighter, more flexible and agile in coloratura and repeats are
ornamented and often surprisingly embellished; the conducting is swift and incisive, but Antonini
employs rubato in slower passages.
So much for the facts; the question is, how good is it? Let me narrate my responses as the opera
unfolds.
I am initially put off by the clangourous, echoing acoustic of the Swiss church recording location, and
seems that microphones have been placed very close to sources to compensate for the
reverberance, but the ear soon adjusts and obviously it suits the thrust of the enterprise as a whole.
The buzzing timbre of the double basses and cellos, too, is disconcerting, but again, one adjusts and
appreciates the novelty.
I am less impressed by Michele Pertusi’s pedestrian, woofy Oroveso; his intonation and resonance go
astray in the lower regions of his bass and one longs for the rolling ease of Siepi or Zaccaria. Nor do I
like John Osborn’s bleaty, throaty tenor; he sings with a permanently strangulated tone which cannot
accommodate much variety of expression because of a fundamentally wrong vocal adjustment;
hence the vibrato starts to flap and the sound sounds more and more restricted as he ascends. Like
Pertusi, when he goes low, the notes disappear as he swallows his tongue – always a telling flaw.
What I think Bartoli was aiming for when she hand-picked her associate cast was a tenor of the type
typified by John Aler, another American now in his late sixties and presumably mostly retired, who
has the flexibility and upper extension without the constriction. I was surprised when I read the
following judgment in a review published in “Opera Today”:
“Possessing one of the most thrilling voices heard in bel canto repertory during the last decade,
American tenor John Osborn joins the ranks of recorded Polliones that include Franco Corelli, Plácido
Domingo, and Luciano Pavarotti. In the context of this performance, it might be said that Mr. Osborn
combines the best qualities of all three of these illustrious forbears.”
I can only say that I derive little pleasure from Mr Osborn’s petulant Pollione.
So far so bad.
Enter Bartoli, enunciating her recitativo with trilled r’s exploding like a Gatling on steroids and much
busy huffing and puffing. She sings “Casta diva” very quietly, as she says in her notes, “sung as a
prayer” and nothing wrong with that, especially as she preserves the legato winningly. The second
verse is ornamented supposedly in accordance with what Bellini’s diva would have been expected to
do and it is rather beautiful; she certainly vindicates her assertion that a mezzo with an upper
extension can encompass the role and I like the alternative, descending ending. Nonetheless, I have
heard Bartoli live and know that her voice is not very big; the aforementioned close miking is in play
and artificially exaggerates her carrying power, especially when she appears to drown out her fellow
singers. Nor am I keen on the chorus basses groaning the lowest line in the background. Antonini
scrambles through the reprise of the march acting as a postlude to “Ah! bello a me ritorna” as the
best way to despatch such an embarrassing little tune, then makes a nice job of the gorgeous
introduction to Adalgisa’s “Deh! proteggimi, o Dio”.
Sumi Jo is certainly more like the young, naïve victim of a wily seducer than some of the viragos who
have belted their way in stentorian fashion through the role (think Horne or Cossotto at their most
formidable); she sings with great pathos and delicacy and there is virtually no wear in her silvery but
warm tone, even though she was nearly fifty at the time of recording. So it is all the more of a pity
that she must soon be joined by her ardent Kermit who sadly still does not sound to my ears like the
avatar of Corelli, Domingo and Pavarotti combined…
Miss Jo valiantly perseveres and provides much aural pleasure. Her Italian is superb and she is a fine
verbal actor. How I wish she were adequately partnered. Still, she has plenty of duetting to do with
Norma, so we move on.
It is odd that having extolled the desirability of rediscovering the characteristics of the true bel canto
style, Bartoli her recitative opening the final scene of Act 1 with such verismo fervour and attack; it
sounds mannered and over-worked - and the close miking exaggerates those faults. Surely more
detached, imperious, Norma-as-goddess manner would have been preferable to the harassed
harridan mode? “O! rimembranza!” inevitably sounds rushed to ears accustomed to a more flowing
lyricism than Antonini permits but the autograph score is apparently marked “andante agitato” and
the singing from both ladies is blissful. When Pollione bursts in with his bleated “Misera te! Che
festi?” the spell is broken, and the tripping, oompah-oompah start to "Oh! di qual sei tu vittima" in
combination with Osborn’s unheroic whine nearly scupper the terzetto finale for good but the fire-
breathing Bartoli injects some starch into proceedings from “Perfido!” onwards with her intensity
and rescues it.
There is a raw immediacy to the superb prelude to Act 2; I like everything about the way Antonini
paces and plays the music; Bartoli picks up on the suspense of the moment and delivers a riveting
narrative of her internal torment in “Dormono entrambi” and there is great pathos in her entrusting
her sons to Adalgisa. “Mira, o Norma” is similarly delightful, both singers entwining their voices
exotically but without artifice, vindicating the “less is more” approach which is not always the rule
here.”Sì, fino’all’ore” is very fast but thrilling; in fact, Bartoli gets better and better as the opera
proceeds but then really throws away the pivotal line “Son io”, where Callas makes so much of so
little, then Osborn croons his rejoinder to her sublime “Qual cor tradisti”.
What an odd experience of a mixed bag this recording is. I love certain things about this recording
and if it had a better tenor I could bring myself to compromise and recommend it for its many virtues
and refreshing surprises, but…
My first choices are hardly novel or surprising. Nothing shakes my primary attachment to Callas’
second studio recording, although I would not want to be without at least one other of her four live
performances, above all the Pristine remastering of the 1955 Votto. I would also want to have at
least one with Sutherland, hence the frequency of the occurrence of Bonynge’s name in my list
below. I would also suggest that whatever version of Norma you prefer, Caballé’s Adalgisa, and not
her Norma, is the more essential; for her Norma, you may go to the Cillario studio recording or the
live Orange performance, trying sound and all.
Ralph Moore