Marc Minkowski knows this score for a long while: he recorded it in 1988 and was one of the conductors associated with performances of this very production in Zürich. Comparing this evening with his old recording is a fascinating experience – the Musiciens du Louvre have a warmer sound today, the accents are more theatrical, but his choice of tempi is adapted by the needs of the production and, most of all, his present cast – far less ideal than the one in studio. This seems to have had an effect of weakening the conductor’s expressive purposes. The first part had its lackadaisical moments – the orchestra had to be reined-in for some singers, arias that required soloists with more tonal coloring abilities were left wanting – but it gained in purpose in the second part and finally paid off in a truly otherworldly Tu del ciel ministro (a desert-island number for ever Handelian)

Sylvia Schwartz’s grainy pellucid soprano does not suggest any sensuousness at the first part of the work or any angelical clarity of tone for the second one, but she showed herself never than fully committed – tackling her divisions with gusto (maybe because Cecilia Bartoli sang the role of Pleasure in Zürich, the difficult aria Un pensiero nemico is transferred to Pleasure here), never shying away from trills and finding true Innigkeit in Io sperai and, although less than vocally pure for the last aria, her spiritual concentration in it offered more than compensation. Inga Kalna’s voice too is devoid of sensuousness and rather harsh and blowsy – sometimes I had the impression that she was trying to channel Bartoli, what could be considered an advantage in terms of panache and crispy delivery of the text and a disadvantage in what regards lack of focus, legato and straightforward vocal production. What she does have is impressively clear coloratura and a very long breath. She could find a way to soften her tone for Lascia la spina and charm the audience there. I still have memories of Ann Hallenberg, but what Kalna could offer there was sincere and ultimately convincing – she is also a very good actress. Delphine Galou (Disinganno) is a stylish Handelian who offered some of the most satisfying singing this evening, but she is no Nathalie Stutzmann. This is the first time I see her live and cannot say if this was a bad-voice day, but her low register this evening did not have the impact and solidity of a Stutzmann, of a Sara Mingardo, of a Sonia Prina. Charles Workman’s singing has many hard angles and his Italian is not truly idiomatic, but his voice was refreshingly hearable in comparison to his colleagues.

It is impossible to compare from memory Julien Salemkour’s conducting back in 2009 and this evening’s performance. Back then the I wrote of egg-timer approach; this evening, the fast speeds seem more coherent, even if some numbers seemed entirely devoid of charm in the oversprightly beat (Bei Männer, for example). Although she still has the occasional intonation lapse, this was the best Pamina I have ever heard from Adriane Queiroz. Her voice is still on the rich side for Pamina, but she was able to keep it focused and light throughout, sounding unusually creamy-, fruity-toned and youthful. Anna Siminska’s soprano was so shallow in her first aria that I feared for the worst in her second one. As with every “professional” Queen of the Night, she could probably sing Der Hölle Rache in her sleep – and it sounded like that. Joel Prieto was almost ideally cast, ardently sung in his firm, spontaneous tenor. He did have some excessively open-toned moments in an almost Neapolitan way, but all in all he was one of the best Taminos I have recently seen. Even if Roman Trekel’s Papageno sounds even rougher these days, I cannot resist his boorish approach for the role – I am afraid I would trade a smoother tone for his truly funny performance. Alexander Vinogradov is an ample-voiced, stylish Sarastro. His extreme low notes were reliable if lacking a bit of space and he lacks the nobility of tone of a René Pape – a very commendable performance in any case.

Patrizia Ciofi sang Leïla’s music with such freshness, emotional commitment and good taste that I am more than ready to forgive her the occasional flapping top note. It must be added that I have probably never heard any other soprano who has dealt with the awkward florid lines as coherently and expressively as she did this evening. I wonder if someone can actually sing the role of Nadir these days better than Joseph Calleja – his old-style plangent tenor fits French repertoire to perfection and he avoids any hint of Italianateness and has very decent French pronunciation. He tackles high mezza voce without any strain or difficulty, while naturally pouring a quite voluminous voice for a lyric tenor. Gedda or Vanzo had sung more overwhelmingly romantic Je crois entendre encore in the good old days, but Calleja’s account is almost unbelievably clean and easy (including the optional higher ending). The torrents of applause were so vehement that the tenor agreed to sing it again – et nous l’avons donc entendu encore! The second time more dulcet than the first – it is no wonder that chorus, orchestra and the other soloists joined the audience in cheering this invaluable Maltese tenor. To make things better, Canadian baritone Étienne Dupuis was an outstanding Zurga, singing with rich, ductile tone in his warm, pleasant voice.

Haïm is a rhythmically vivid conductor who stimulates her musicians to engage and who is always ready to dare (sometimes at the expense of textual fidelity, it is true). She never cheats, though, and the panache is always there. She is also very sensitive to singers, trying to color the orchestral tone to their suggestion. The opening item, the Danse du grand calumais de la paix from Les Indes Galantes cracked with excitement and one couldn’t help but moving to the rhythm. If I am not mistaken, she has conducted some of the orchestral numbers in her concert with the Berlin Philharmonic this year, but with her own band the effect is obviously earthier and more convincing.

In the Handel part, I was particularly taken by the way she could find dramatic truth in the contrast between sections in the arie da capo, particularly telling in the sharp accents in the section B of Lascia ch’io pianga. Orlando’s Fammi combattere exuded vigor and grace, while arias like Venti, turbini (Rinaldo) and Ciel e terra (Tamerlano). Haïm is typically French in her almost studied exuberance, and was always ready to have fun, as in the Caribbean accents she added to Purcell’s Sound the Trumpet from the ode to Queen Mary, with spirited improvisations from Philippe Jaroussky and Pascal Bertin.

The distinguished guest singers offered compelling performances. If Jaël Azzaretti could float her high notes most consistently, she would have been perfect – her voice is extremely sweet and flexible. Her nightingale aria for the shepherdess in Hypolite et Aricie was ideally beguiling, but her contribution as Bellezza in the quartet from Il Trionfo del Tempo e del Disinganno could be lovelier. Anne Sofie Von Otter offered a austere and classy account of Phèdre’s remorse scene. Stéphane Degout was perfectly poised and offered noble phrasing and clear diction in Antenor’s aria Monstre affreux from Dardanus. Patricia Petibon relished the campy physical comedy in the aria of La Folie from Platée, but it is also true that she sang it with accuracy, charm and lustrous tone. Karine Deshayes brought a rich, full yet clear mezzo and absolutely musical sincerity in Tristes apprêts from Castor et Polux. Sonya Yoncheva brought sexy back to the trumpet+drum aria with her rich and flashy voice – and she herself is sexy too.

Cristopher Purves’ Fra l’ombre e gl’orrori was a bit showy even if I am truly impressed by his perfectly focused extremely low notes and long breath. Ann Hallenberg proved that there is no overornamentation if you use it for expressive purposes in a a lovely and touching Lascia ch’io pianga. I had never heard Marijana Mijanovic before and cannot say if her voice was always that small – and her coloratura is some thing that the word “aspirated” can only partially describe. Natalie Dessays sang charmingly her duet with Degout from Les Indes Galantes, but had to work hard for purity in the duet from Dixit dominus (with an ideal Deshayes). Cleopatra’s Se Pietà, on the other hand, went beyond the occasional patches of nasality and other small glitches: that was the voice of a tormented soul, of a wronged queen – and prettiness was clearly not what she (and Handel) wanted. Sara Mingardo is the musical personification of dignity in her majestic voice, solid low notes and directness of expression. A great account of Piangete, sì from La Ressurrezione. Rolando Villazón was not in his best voice but he truly rocked in Cielo e Terra with his rhythmic buoyancy, dramatic engagement, exciting divisions and the usual take-no-hostages attitude. Sandrine Piau does not have the voice of a Handelian prima donna, but sang a clean, affecting Piangerò la sorte mia.  Philippe Jaroussky was brilliant, extremely sensitive in his Son nato a lacrimar with an inspired Von Otter and offered a coloratura showpiece in Venti, turbini. Lorenzo Regazzo and Laura Claycomb transformed Argante and Armida’s Al trionfo del nostro furore in opera buffa and I’m not sure that is the spirit. All in all, a great evening and a most happy anniversary!

The opening piece in the program was Bach’s Orchestral Suite no.1. At first, the warmth of the orchestral sound was simply irresistible, but in the fugal section the conductor simply pressed his musicians too hard. While the woodwind wowed the audience with breathtaking accuracy, the strings were operating really close to their limits. As the egg-timer treatment did not bring about any expressive gain, I wonder if the idea was ultimately wise. In the remaining dances, there was a sensation of straight-jacked elegance, but very little charm (I write that as I hear Jordi Savall’s more relaxed and more seductive performance recorded in Metz).

The Christmas cantata Christen, ätzet diesen Tag, BWV 63, didn’t dismiss the atmosphere of nervousness. While the tempi are not dissimilar from his recording for BIS, his Japanese performance sounds exhilarating and festive, maybe because his musicians are used to the approach. There he had more appropriate soloists too. Simona Saturová has exquisite high notes, but seemed uncomfortable with phrasing with Bachian instrumental poise. Moreover, she has something of a lisp that disfigures her pronunciation of the letter “s” (as in sun – not as in Senta). Truth be said, that duet is quite unsingable – and, if I had to choose, I would say she was rather an asset than a liability. Although Annette Markert sounds dignified enough in her typically oratorio contralto, the sound is a bit matronly and not clean enough – the matching with the tenor’s voice in their duet was problematic. It is not her fault that Bach has written the part in an uncomfortable area of the contralto voice (and Markert must be praised for her seamless passaggio), but even a firmer-toned and sharper-focused (and more expressive too!) singer such as Sara Mingardo in Gardiner’s live recording found it a bit difficult, while countertenor Yoshikazu Mera in Suzuki’s CD could not help finding the tessitura most congenial (I am no connoisseur, but – correct me if I am wrong – this aria was not written for a woman’s voice). Tenor Timothy Fallon, a replacement for Lothar Odynius, does not have the poised quality of a Bach tenor, but, other than this, offered a very decent performance. For his credit, this does not seem to be his usual repertoire. Dominik Wörner has a Klaus Mertens-like voice, baritone-like yet resonant in its lower reaches, but very light and short in harmonics in the upper end of his register. As usual, the RIAS-Kammerchor sang expressively and stylishly.

Suzuki’s approach to the Mass KV 427 would be more interesting, if no less problematic. Nikolaus Harnoncourt had said something like “baroque music speaks, while Romantic music paints”. The problem remains with what to do with Classicism – if it is true that Mozart still uses the “codes” of baroque music, his whole aesthetic approach couldn’t be more different from Bach’s or Handel’s, even when he is finding inspiration in them, as in this case. This evening performance couldn’t be more illustrative – Suzuki really let this score “speak”, highlighting every little expressive trait in a very discursive way. I confess I have discovered many “new” sides of this work this evening, but this treatment hampered the musical flow and drained some of the spontaneous grace from it. And the tempi were really fast – the RIAS Kammerchor (which has sung this very work earlier this year under their conductor Rademann and with an excellent soprano II in Stella Doufexis) met the challenge with brio: their accuracy and energy in the zippiest Cum sancto spiritu fugue in my experience was something to marvel. In the choral movements, this performance produced its right effect and paid off the conductor’s adventurousness. The solo parts are notoriously difficult and the conductor did not make anyone’s life easy. While no singer has disgraced him or herself, a performance that demands such dexterity of its soloists requires bel canto singers who could make light of the strain and show off virtuoso quality – Aleksandra Kurzak and Joyce DiDonato would have probably taken the audience to some sort of Koloraturfest. As it was, Saturová had the elements of greatness, but they didn’t build up to greatness itself. As said above, her high notes are glittering and project beautifully and she can trill, but there are fluttery or metallic moments and her middle register sometimes sounds as if it belonged to some older and more worn-voiced than her. She has sense of style and good instincts, but, well, she is from Bratislava, a city that “trained” Lucia Popp, Edita Gruberová and Luba Orgonasová, who were all of them immaculate soloists who went far beyond the notes themselves in this piece. I wonder if it is not time for Véronique Gens to move on – she had to work hard for the fioriture, her middle and low registers seemed reined-in and her high notes blossomed sometimes too exuberantly for this piece. I do have a soft spot for her sensuous and creamy voice, but I guess it is time to sing with the capital and tackle something heartier.

Those who like Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde have been very lucky  – this is the second time in a relatively short time the Berlin Philharmonic performs it this year. Last time, Claudio Abbado had given a clearly analytic and exquisite-toned yet somewhat cold performance of this piece, one that couldn’t be more different from that heard in the Philharmonie this evening. To start with, Rattle favors an earthier sound from his orchestra and, even if he is not less clear than Abbado, the sense of structural coherence takes second place to the intent of extracting the last ounce of feeling from each moment. The result not only is a far more flexible tempo (with the occasional transitional bumpiness), but also an extra degree in intensity. I found it a difficult yet finally rewarding account of this well-loved score. The first movement, for instance, had a rather sensuous sound picture and moved forward impulsed by regular surges of energy that made the whole quite uncomfortable and slightly awkward, but never dull. The performance would settle into something less unpredictable in the middle movements, with chamber-like sonorities that never sounded too well-behaved and really expressive solos – again brilliant woodwind and French horns, but not only. Everyone in the orchestra seemed connected to a sense of story-telling and theatricality – even the accompanying figures in the harps seemed more dramatic than usual. In Abschied, Rattle risked everything – this is a piece in which one can always cheat with sentimentality, but not this evening; no easy trick has been tried. Tempo, accents, dynamics – everything served one unified expressive purpose. Sometimes, one would miss a more exuberant crescendo, while something more understated had been chosen, but the approach paid off exquisitely in the otherworldly conclusion, far more fitting in its unexaggerated feeling to the text than the bombastic gran finale sometimes preferred elsewhere.

It is curious that Rattle has invited Abbado’s mezzo-soprano, Anne Sofie von Otter, whose performance had been, well, disappointing. Her voice is rather modest for this piece, but I wonder if she was not in a good day last time. This evening, while she still has her moments of inaudibility, she was clearly in better voice. Her low register sounded more positive, the tonal quality was attractively velvety and one could see that she felt that she had enough leeway to concentrate on tone coloring. It was a truly inspired performance, very sensitive to the poetic moods and emotionally generous – from the heart to the heart. Tenor Stuart Skelton was evidently extremely nervous in his debut with the Philharmonic. I have to confess that his whole stage attitude was very distracting and I avoided looking at his contortions, fidgeting, bending backwards, semaphoric movement with the arms, you name it. The voice itself is very pleasant and warm and he is capable of nuance, but his whole method is a bit chaotic – his voice is often unfocused and he pushes too often for comfort. When he does let a high note spin and acquire momentum without pushing it, the sound is huge and exciting, but his high acuti were often matte and covered by the orchestra and cut short rather than rounded off. I don’t know how he sounds in more relaxed circumstances – I only wonder how exhausting singing the way he sang this evening must be. In any case, he could find the right note of raw energy in the first song and quite successfully scale down in Vor der Jugend.

The edition adopted this evening required many adjustments – the harp solo in “Lydia”‘s seduction scene was given to the harpsichord, I haven’t seen four horns for the opening choir, Curio does not exist and, quite understandably, some arias have been cut (Sesto’s La giustizia, Tolomeo’s Belle dee and Sì, spietata, Cesare’s Qual torrente, Achilla’s Se a me non sei and Nireno’s Chi perde un momento) and some were shorn of their B sections (Cleopatra’s Venere bella, Cornelia’s Non ha più che temere and maybe Sesto’s L’aura che spira).

Karina Gauvin has been called “the Renée Fleming of baroque music”, and the nickname is apt enough given the roundness and fullness of her soprano, far richer in nuance than most singers in this repertoire. She achieved the feat of producing a particular tone colouring for each aria – lightly provocative in Non disperar, weightily tragic in Se pietà, contrastingly resignated and desperate in Piangerò and exuberantly imperious in Da tempeste (an unforgettable display of technical abandon). Curiously, the more teasing Tutto può and V’adoro, pupille were quite short in charm. She is one of those singers who always sings on the interest and not on the capital, especially in her high register, what is healthy for her, but a bit frustrating for the audience, considering what her amazing resources might be in their full powers. In any case, a must hear.

Emöke Barath’s voice is a bit high for the role of Sesto, but the singer is irreproachable.  Her tonal quality is pure and pleasant, her coloratura is fluent, she is a vivid performer, has a good ear for ornamentation and, considering her natural Fach, could aptly play her registers for a more “boyish” effect in key moments. I’m curious to hear more from her. Romina Basso too was an impressive Cornelia, her contralto natural and flexible and her use of the text very expressive. Sometimes, her ornamentation is too flamboyant for Cornelia’s lamenti and she could relax a bit more on stage (her whole posture is often too tense), but make no mistake: she is a very special singer.

I wonder if Marie-Nicole Lemieux shouldn’t trade roles with Romina Basso. Her voice is quite soft-grained in its middle register and sometimes unfocused out of her effort to produce incisiveness in it – and her register break is abrupt. The excruciatingly difficult arie di bravure had their labored moments and her interpretation involves highlighting the text to the expense of melodic flow in a rather Fischer Dieskau-ian manner. When the circumstances were favourable, she could be really touching, such as in Aure, deh pietà. All in all, she has an irresistible personality and is never less than fully committed and by the end the sum its greater than the parts.

Countertenor Filippo Mineccia has a strong high register, stamina and flexibility, but his passaggio is a bit problematic. Johanes Weisser (Achilla) has developed a lot since I last heard him. Now he consistently sounds like a baritone and he sang with panache and very clear divisions in forceful voice. There was something tense in his presence, but he channeled that efficiently into his arias. Last but not least, I was sorry for the loss of Nireno’s aria, for Milena Storti was really, really great in her crisply delivered recitatives in a dark yet focused contralto.

I have seen staged performances of Wagner operas that were musically uninteresting but theatrically compelling, staged performances who were dull in terms of theatre but musically illuminating – and Wagner operas performed in concert version that were actually “dramatic” and some that were neither dramatic nor musically interesting. In other words, although there is no golden rule here, in view of Maestro Janowski’s opinions, I was ready to be overwhelmed by something revelatory in terms of conducting this evening. I haven’t – Daniel Barenboim “accompanying” either Harry Kupfer’s or Stefan Herheim’s stagings actually offered me something far more overwhelming. I do not mean that this evening’s was a bad performance – it was certainly not – but it hadn’t been special either. If one has in mind that it has been organized with the purpose of being recorded, it was supposed to be memorable – otherwise why release a CD of it, isn’t it? As it was, this was an outstandingly clear reading of the score with rhythmically accurate ensembles. If there is one opera the prelude of which is supposed to set the mood for what lies ahead, this is Lohengrin – not this evening, I am afraid: violins lacked floating quality in their pianissimo playing and the climax was so deliberately built that it actually hang fire. To tell the truth, strings lacked volume throughout, violins sounding particularly thin. Since brass were in healthy shape, this could be often problematic. Act II had a better start, the dark side of the opera apparently has more appeal to the conductor – the Ortrud/Telramund scene displayed superior structural coherence and the orchestra commented with some passion, when not reined in to spare singers in difficulty. The Rundfunkchor Berlin proved to be the trump card of today’s Lohengrin – no wonder that the ensembles were invariably the most exciting moments this evening. Lohengrin’s arrival in act I was particularly praiseworthy, one of the best I have heard either live or in recordings. By the third act, things seemed to gain somewhat in interest – the prelude to act III is one of Janowski’s specialties, but I have heard him conduct it more excitingly with this same orchestra in other occasion (here again strings lacked volume). In all honesty, one cannot blame the conductor alone for the lack of excitement. It is very generous of these singers to perform pro bono and I respect all of them for that, but this was no dream team for this opera – and one could see that Janowski had to make them many concessions that ended on impairing some key dramatic moments. A good example was Ortrud’s last intervention – the orchestra, for once, was ready to give it all, but the conductor had to scale things down and he deserves high praise for being able to keep some excitement there through articulation and accent alone.

Pregnancy seems to become Annette Dasch – although the role of Elsa requires a larger voice than hers, she sang it this evening really better than when I saw her in Bayreuth. Today I found her middle and low register particularly fruity and appealing and her attempts to produce pianissimo more effective. Her interpretation has deepened too and, even if her Elsa has more than a splash of “Gossip Girl”, it is also theatrically alert and attentive to the text. Susanne Resmark too knows everything she should know about Ortrud, but the role is impossibly high for her voice, making her sound hooty, breathy and sometimes off-pitch. I have seen Klaus Florian Vogt as Lohengrin in various occasions and so far this has been his best performance in this role and I am glad that it has been recorded. His strangely ethereal yet forceful tenor fits the “role description” and he sang it particularly mellifluously this evening, while almost avoiding the abrupt ending of phrases that sometimes disfigure his singing. Gerd Grochowski masters the crispy declamation necessary to sing Telramund but, as his Ortrud, finds the role high for his voice, sounding often gray toned and limited in volume in the higher reaches. Together with this evening’s tenor and the chorus, the shining features of this performance are the outstanding Günther Groissböck, an exemplary Wagnerian voice, as King Henry and Markus Brück’s powerful Herald.

In any case, although the musical performance had its share of tiny glitches, Donald Runnicles offered a commendable account of the score. Conducting Wagner with small-scaled singers is a challenging affair – one the Deutsche Oper’s Musical Director has often failed to meet – but not this evening. The house orchestra played with fine focus and a lighter sound bright enough to have presence, and the maestro never missed the right opportunities to unleash his musicians when this should and could be done. Moreover, Tannhäuser is a specialty of the Deutsche Oper chorus – their singing alone is worth the trip to Charlottenburg. This is the third time I’ve heard them in this opera and it has been consistently excellent.  The choristers were not alone in providing great singing this evening – Markus Brück is probably the finest Wolfram in the market these days. I have recently seen Goerne and Gerhaher in this role and, sensitively as they both sing the Abendstern song, Brück provides richness and roundness of tone without loss of ductility and flexibility and still avoids any hint of affectation. To make things worse, he has a sizable voice and can hold his own against any Heldentenor. Not that this was necessary this evening.

The first time I have heard of Robert Gambill was in Bruno Weil’s recording of Mozart’s Die Entführung aus dem Serail, in which he sang Pedrillo. He could be seen next as Lindoro in Gelmetti’s DVD of Rossini’s L’Italiana in Algeri. Then, in 1999, he was singing Tannhäuser with Barenboim in the Staatsoper. Before he was billed as Siegmund and Tristan, he could record Graun’s Cesare and Cleopatra with René Jacobs  – he even did a very good job with trills back then. I had tried to see his Tannhäuser at the Deutsche Oper, but he canceled twice. I had never seen him live before this evening, but I like the sound of his voice and his Mozartian background made me curious. Yes – it is a beautiful voice, not a dramatic one yet large enough, he can phrase with Mozartian poise and has excellent diction. All that below a high f. From that note upwards, he suffers from some sort of misconception that involves too backwards a placement, resulting an opaque and unstable sound that fails to pierce through. He has admirable stamina and by virtue of a steely breath support pushes his way through – but he predictably soon got tired. Things got so perilous that I was expecting for a replacement, but one has to concede Gambill something: he never gives up and very rarely cheats. I have seen healthier Tannhäusers who “forget” to sing some impossible notes during the concertati in the ends of act I and II, but not Gambill. Although he sounded tired, had to chop his phrases to get an extra helping of air, pecked at high notes mid-phrase, could be below true pitch in exposed acuti and finally employed a lot of acting with the voice, this tenor did sing more or less everything Wagner wrote. I just wonder if he enjoys this experience – not even Jon Vickers tried Tannhäuser (does anyone believe that whole “immorality” story?!). Why not Lohengrin? Walther?

I am not sure if Wagner is Manuela Uhl’s repertoire either. Her voice is too high for Elisabeth and, hard-pressed by having to produce a Wagnerian sound, it comes across as acidulous and fluttery. She could not find dynamic variety and sang a quite insensitive prayer in the last act. You can imagine by yourselves how her Venus was. Reinhard Hagen is always a reliable Landgraf and Thomas Blondelle’s Walther had no problem in presiding over ensembles, a lesson to his Tannhäuser: beefing up high notes is a very poor replacement for natural tonal brightness.

Sonia Ganassi does not need to fear comparison in what regards artistic generosity – her Adalgisa is exquisitely conceived, the text is expressively and intelligently used, she masters the difficulties of that role and has an engaging personality. And she was in very good voice, better than last time I saw her in this opera.  As his Norma, Johan Botha found problems in his opening aria – the high notes were tense and edgy. That did not prevent him from trying high options in the cabaletta, but the problem persisted. That said, he sang with such elegance, nuance and imagination as I haven’t heard before in this role. Alexander Vingradov’s full-toned and finely focused bass worked beautifully in the role of Oroveso. This is a singer I would like to hear again. Kyungho Kim too deserves mention for his Flavio – far more positive and pleasant-toned than we are used to hear in this role.

Although Andriy Yurkevich has his kapellmeisterlich moments, he has a good grasp of bel canto style and some surprises in reserve, especially a good sense of balancing, of bringing endearing instrumental details to the fore without interrupting the rhythmic flow – even when giving his singers some freedom to phrase. The Staatskapelle Berlin was in excellent shape – the string section adopted a bright, Italianate sound and tackled passagework  with virtuoso quality. If it were not for the Schiller Theater dry acoustics (that robbed brass and drums roundness of tone), this would have been ideal.