Giuseppe Verdi (1813-1901)
Simon Boccanegra (1881 version)
Opera in a prologue and three acts
Simon Boccanegra: Ludovic Tézier (baritone)
Amelia Grimaldi: Marina Rebeka (soprano)
Gabriele Adorno: Francesco Meli (tenor)
Jacopo Fiesco: Michele Pertusi (bass)
Orchestra and Chorus of the Teatro San Carlo di Napoli/Michele Spotti
rec. live, October 2024, Naples, Italy
Libretto only in Italian
Reviewed as a download.
Prima Classic PRIMA069 [133]

There are a number of very good full recordings of Simon Boccanegra available, of which two could be said to stand out, if one goes far back enough. There is the 1957 Santini version known for its hugely characterful and vocally excellent singing of the main roles by Gobbi, Christoff, De Los Angeles and Campora, and the more recent one under Abbado (1977) which obviously has better sound, and whose cast is pretty well of equal quality, consisting of Cappuccilli, Ghiaurov, Freni and Carreras. Recently, there has been an issue of the earlier, 1857 version, which was copiously reviewed on this site, (review ~ review ~ review ~ review) but the recording I’m reviewing here is of the ‘mature’, 1881 reworking.

This latest offering was recorded in the Teatro San Carlo in Naples during two live concert performances in October 2024, by, incidentally, the record label belonging to the soprano lead and her husband. With such good versions already in the catalogue, one wonders whether there is any need to acquire a more modern one. The quality of the sound is excellent, and the orchestral playing often very interesting, but it must be said that vocally, it is simply not as good as many of its predecessors.

The eponymous baritone is both a corsair who has become Doge and (briefly) a lover and (more importantly) the devoted father of a girl. As the first, he quells an unruly assembly, pleading for peace, and as the last he has to show a whole gamut of emotions, from grief to joy, before he finally dies, succumbing to a slow poison. It is thus a complex role, making huge demands on a singer. The exponent here is Ludovic Tézier, the French baritone, who is clearly one of the most sought-after baritones of the age, particularly, in more recent years, in Verdi. He delivers a performance which is emotionally committed, using the whole of his dynamic range, and some expressive colouring – but in general, I don’t feel that he has what it takes for this role. There is a wobble – not so much a vibrato as a sort of throb – in the voice that becomes more pronounced as the volume increases, when the pitch also, often, becomes unclear. The attack in ‘Plebe, patrizi, …’ is really not crisp – the voice spreads in a rather unattractive way, as it does, in the duet with Fiesco, on ‘M’odi’. Even when softer singing is required to convey affection, as in ‘Il mare,’ the tone is, to my ear, dry and unpleasing, and the resulting impression of clumsiness contrasts with the delicacy of the orchestral playing at this point. One only has to listen to Cappuccilli, not to mention Gobbi, to be reminded of what the role sounds like when sung by someone who can put real bite into the voice, without losing quality, or real warmth, as required.

The soprano role, Amelia, is also challenging, requiring tender singing on occasions, but also the volume to soar above those beautiful Verdian ensembles. When I heard her first notes at the start of Act 1, I had the impression that I was hearing the best singing on the disc so far. The voice is flexible, many of the high notes are floated nicely, and there are some expressive moments in the lower register. But when the voice is under more pressure, and perhaps increasingly as the evening progresses, there is some strain and even some acidity, and the voice tends to spread. Here again, comparison with Freni or Kiri Te Kanawa shows what this music can sound like when sung by fuller, more rounded voices.

Amelia’s lover, Gabriele, also needs to be sung by a versatile tenor, more spinto than purely lyrical, but with the ability to sing the phrases with beauty. Though Francesco Meli has been singing this role since 2011, I fail to hear the necessary qualities in his voice. He has a reasonable legato and subtle phrasing when singing quietly, but as the volume increases, the voice becomes dry and hard, straining in what seems a painful way. This is even true in his very first notes, the pleasant triple-time melody from off-stage, which Meli really doesn’t do justice to, even though it needs no particular volume. The same failings are all too audible in the moments in the lovely Verdian ensembles, in which an adequate tenor has the chance to soar beautifully above the other voices; all we hear here is strain and an obtrusive throb. I really can’t understand why he is in such demand for these demanding lirico-spinto Verdi roles. He clearly doesn’t bear comparison with some of his illustrious forbears, like Bergonzi, Aragall, or Carreras.

The fourth main character, Fiesco, is also the loving father of a girl, which means that in this opera we have not one, but two examples of this relationship which was obviously dear to Verdi. He is also a prominent Patrician, and his haughtiness comes to the fore, particularly towards Simone, whom he holds responsible for the death of his daughter, so this role also demands an expressive singer. Michele Pertusi can show sensitivity and reasonable phrasing. But the voice is again afflicted – why is this problem common to the three male leads in this recording? – with a slow pulse, a regrettably dry tone and a lack of steadiness when under pressure. The low notes are only just there, and, compared with such basses as Christoff and Ghiaurov, he quite simply lacks, from what I can hear here, the ability to sing a musical line with suppleness and beauty, which is so necessary in this role.

The two smaller roles, Paulo (Mattia Olivieri) and Pietro (Andrea Pelligrini) are sung adequately, though in the case of Olivieri, I again have the impression of a singer who is forcing his voice to try to sing a role that is too heavy for him, resulting in frequent distortion of the vocal quality here, and risking further damage in the long term. The comparison might be considered unfair, but it’s worth remembering that, on the Abbado recording, this role is sung by José van Dam, whose gorgeously dense, dark tone is an unexpected bonus.

The chorus generally produces a homogenous sound. There are, however, a couple of moments when it lacks presence, as in the Council scene, where ‘Guerra a Venezia’ could be punchier, and in the curse scene, where there are intonation issues in the chorus’ repeat of the curse.

The orchestra under conductor Michele Spotti, which is very closely recorded, produces a very interesting timbre, and often plays with delicate transparency, as, for example, in the Prologue. There is a very attractive warmth in some of the preludes, particularly in the woodwind and the lower strings. The recitatives are precisely punctuated, but there are moments when, despite the lovely colours, I wondered whether the ensembles couldn’t be done with more richness, and the dramatic moments brought out with more urgency. Conductors like Abbado manage to bring a more natural, organic-sounding surge and swell to the ensembles, and to accompany the singers more attentively.

It will be clear by now, that, despite the unusual delicacy of the orchestral playing, I do not see what this modern recording has to offer that the listener cannot find in previous recordings.

David James

Other review: Simon Thompson

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Other cast
Paolo Albiani: Mattia Olivieri (baritone)
Pietro: Andrea Pellegrini (bass-baritone)
Captain of the guard: Vasco Maria Vagnoli (tenor)
A maid: Silvia Cialli (mezzo-soprano)