Verdi: Macbeth (Decca) - MusicWeb International

Giuseppe Verdi (1813-1901)
Macbeth (1865 version/revised by T Schippers, 1957)
Macbeth – Giuseppe Taddei (baritone);
Lady Macbeth – Birgit Nilsson (soprano);
Banquo – Giovanni Foianni (bass);
Macduff – Bruno Prevedi (tenor);
Coro dell’Accademia Nazionale Di Santa Cecilia
Orchestra dell’Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia/Thomas Schippers
rec. 1964, Sala academica, Conservatorio di Santa Cecilia, Rome, Italy
available as a digital download in FLAC or MP3 formats
Decca 4834118 [120]

Thomas Schippers already had an established reputation as a Verdi conductor of note when he was contracted by Decca to lead this recording for their star soprano Birgit Nilsson. Nilsson was wanting to show her record-purchasing public her abilities outside the German repertoire which had made her famous. Schippers had made a performing version of Verdi’s Macbeth for the Spoletto Festival in 1957 in which he had drastically cut the contributions of the witches in order to try to bring the opera closer to the taut drama of the Shakespeare play. He started with the 1865 Paris revision but cut out the heart of all the witches’ appearances, as well as the ballet, and the chorus of reviving spirits, and a central section of the procession of King Duncan. The most drastic cut of all is a huge section of the fugue, which describes the final battle. When he came to record the opera, it is that Spoletto edition that he used. It is rather a pity that Decca didn’t force him to use the full 1865 score, as the Metropolitan Opera did when he conducted a series of performances there in 1960. Most listeners will probably not object to the ballet being cut, but the cuts to the witches’ music reduce their impact considerably, and it does nothing at all to enhance the drama.

What one does get to hear in Schippers’ contribution is a marvellously vital and rhythmically alert performance of the score. He shows more restraint in the opening Prelude than either Claudio Abbado or Riccardo Muti, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a lack of tension in the music. Schippers loves to reveal details of Verdi’s orchestration which had previously escaped my notice among all of my years of being acquainted with this opera. The slithering figures for bass clarinet during Lady Macbeth’s “Ma, dimmi, altra voce non parti d’udire?” of the Duet is a good example of this. Schippers’ sense of rhythm is also worth noting, such as the wonderful way he digs into Macbeth’s “Fuggi, regal fantasima” during the apparition scene.

Decca supplied an absolutely regal cast for this endeavour, although many of the names, apart from Nilsson’s, may not resonate much today. Giuseppe Taddei is a viscerally commanding Macbeth. He was one of the major baritones that came out of Italy during the postwar period. Perhaps he is marginally less characterful than Piero Cappuccilli for Abbado on the DG recording, but Taddei presents a more extroverted Scottish King than his compatriot. His voice is solid and firm throughout all registers, and he continually enlivens his musical phrases with small touches that illuminate the character. He is quite riveting in the brief scene with the assassin in the midst of the banquet scene.

Birgit Nilsson was at the peak of her career when this recording was made. She had recorded all three of Lady Macbeth’s arias a couple of years before this on a recital disc, but in the complete opera she surpassed those recordings by a wide margin. With her cool, Nordic tone and reserves of power, one never has the feel that she has reached the limit of her resources. In ”Vieni ! t’affretta!” she begins the scene with an extremely well-acted recitation of the letter. Schippers provides a considerate tempo for her to unfurl swathes of pure, evenly produced vocal amplitude. She can sing softly when called upon, as in her haunting Sleepwalking scene. Much of this scene is sung in expressively shaded half-voice as she explores the wanderings of Lady M’s subconscious. Nilsson also manages a beautifully soft high D to conclude that scene; it may not quite achieve the “fil di voce” effect that Verdi was looking for, but it is more than satisfactory for this reviewer. When it comes to the rapid passage work, she negotiates it rather than conquering it. Things such as the cabaletta to her first aria emerge clearly enough but without any particular grace. She certainly makes up for any limitation there by slicing through the big ensembles like a massive, silver-toned cleaver.

Among the supporting roles, Giovanni Foianni ‘s Banquo really stands out. His sepulchral tone makes it sound as if Banquo already has one foot in the grave from his first appearance. Foianni has a traditional Mediterranean style of voice with a sort of fast-flickering quality that one rarely encounters any more; because of this he sounds remarkably like the great Tancredi Pasero. Bruno Prevedi’s bright, forthright Italianate sound makes a very appealing Macduff. He does not have the squillo in his sound that you find with Carlo Bergonzi, but he sings his big aria with the same sort of panache. During the cabaletta “la patria tradita” the recording balance curiously favours Piero de Palma’s Malcolm so that you can barely make out Prevedi’s voice at all.

Apart from that one sonic glitch, the sound of this recording is especially wide-ranging and the sound field is wonderfully expansive. The recording was made in late June and early July 1964 at the concert hall in the Conservatorio di Santa Cecilia in Rome. The hall had just undergone a complete renovation before Decca went back there to make this recording. The spacious sound makes the excellent Abbado recording sound downright claustrophobic in comparison. Both the chorus and orchestra of the Academy make fine, accurate contributions under Schippers’ lead. This recording might well have kept a place at the head of the pack but for Schippers’ cuts. The one I cannot forgive is a terrible cut halfway through the fugue, so that the final battle doesn’t gradually die away; it just suddenly stops when the chorus cries “vittoria”. Schippers’ one other sin is the ridiculously fast pace with which he takes the closing chorus. The beat was Verdi’s attempt to replicate highland dance music, at Schippers’ tempo that allusion is completely lost as the chorus and soloists scramble to keep up to the conductor. No digital booklet accompanies this purchase.

Mike Parr

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