Donizetti Songs, #3: Carlo Rizzi returns, this time with Michael Spyres
One of the finest, if not the finest, volume in this exemplary series from Opera Rara
We discussed Michael Spyres' Erato disc Contra-tenor previously here, an astonishing delve into what it means to be a tenor (and there's complement to this disc, Baritenor).
Now. Spyres joins Carlo Rizzi for the third volume of Donizetti songs on Opera Raa: previously, we had considered Volumes One (Lawrence Brownlee) and Two (Nicola Alaimo). Here's the promo video for Spyres' release:
The same musicological detail offered by previous volumes accompanies this disc, which kicks off with Le rétour ao desert ("Léger cousier, plus léger que le dainties"; Nimble steed, more agile than the deer). The text depicts, via a bolero rhythm in the piano, the horse's movement towards the protagonist's home, and his mother, and his beloved. Sélina. Spyres is wonderfully fluid in Donizetti's lines. This is a late song from Donizeti's Paris period, and although first published in Lucca in Italian, the autograph is in French, and that is what is performed here:
From the same period comes a funeral ode, "Morte! et pourtant hier" (Dead! And yesterday I saw her). The booklet notes rightly suggest that in that in the opening sections, the music is easily imagined as an operatic scene, the piano a reduction of hushed strings against which Spyres' cries of "Morte!" resoud. The contast comes with the protagonist imagining his beloved in Heaven ("Au ciel c'est une Ange de plus"; in Heaven there is one mote angel). Interestingly, the stanzas balance but are contrasted, the first about the lover's loss, the second an appreciation of the girl's generosity and compassion to others:
Two French MS's against one Italian suggests.a preference fo French in "Ah! si tu voulais" (Ah, if only you, whom I love, would have a little low fo me!). It's quite agile, and does indeed sound remarkably French in origin. Spyres is brilliant in his characterisation here:
It is absolutely chaming. Spyres has the lion's share to do, but Rizzi gives full attention to the rather retiring accompaniment..
Someone conveniently called Rose ("the Rose(rose) of my heart") is the subject of the protagonist's affections in the next song. Spyres' honeyed tone is incredible; he treats this salon piece as if it is the highest peak of Donizetti's output. This earlier song has so much to commended it, Spyres seems to say:
This volume presents gem after gem. The late song, "N'ayez pas peur, Madam"" is full of core Donizetti chaacteristics:
Another song that ranks amongst Donizetti's finest is "Le Crépiscule" ("Dawn breaks and your door is closed" is the first line). There is a brilliant evocation of knocking on someone's door on the piano (which is exactly what happens in the text) - more of a tippety-tap than a full blown knock, as it should be, given the time of day! Spyres scales his voice perfectly - one feels the anticipation, but one is also aware he could open out his voice much more; and he achieves just the right amount of breathlessness. Here's an alternative performance by Spyres to enjoy, here with Giulio Zappa on piano:
At over 12 minutes, Le dernier Nuit d'un Novice sets the conflicting emotions of a young man on the eve of taking his religious vows. As might be expected, the mental-emotional state constantly shifts. To begin with, the young man looks forward to the new day. But when he falls asleep, an evil spirit enters (both voiced by Spyres), tempting him to earthly delights. The young man wakes, but puts it all down to dream, calling in the angels. Asleep, the evil spirit returns, tempting him now to a happy conjugal scene. Interestingly, along with the sweet caress of the vocal line (and the setting!), the piano offers a more malign, if restrained, commentary. The piano imitates the bell of dawn, and of the time to enter the priory. And the final stanza is full of hope, the Novice entreating an angel to accompany him. This is a wonderful a song-inhabited dramatic space brilliantly enacted by Spyres:
A touch over a mere two minutes and so in maximal contrast, the "Berglied," "Rings ruht die grüne Alpenhut," part of the collection Das singende Deutschland, is a youthful song. A lovely, flowing portrait of Alpine Nature, it is a song of morning (remember Arise, my love!?). s you can guess form the title, it is in German :
Much of the piano accompaniment of the next song has been reconstructed for this recording. What the booklet refers to as "extravagant melodic flights" reveal simply splendid cantabile from Spyres, who is particularly tender in his phasing in the song's latter stages.
"Oh, j'ai reve d'un étrangère" is an example of crossover between song and opera: the melody also appears in the chorus at the opening of the second act of Adelia. Just because we can, here's that entire opera, conducted by John Neschling at Bergamo, Italy:
More crossover in the next song, "Je ne me plaignis pas", whose origins lie with Marie's "Il faut partir" fom La fille du régiment. Here's Patrizia Ciofi, whom I opted for above Lisette Oropesa, my one immediate choice here: Ciofi's just so convincing:
... you can't miss the parallels between the openings, but Donizetii takes this particular line for a very different walk than in the opera: a study in the potentialities of theme. Spyes is superbly expressive, and Rizzi reacts the harmonic changes (especially to the major) perfectly. And goodness, Spyres' climactic high note on 'Je t'aims" in the final line (I love you) is stunning, fully in the note with no hint whatsoever of strain, and yet full of climactic passion and angst.
I heartily agree with the booklet notes about unknown not meaning unworthy: the song, "Oh!, ne me chasse pas" is glorious. Showing off Spyres' vocal range, "Vous dont le cœur" (You, who's heart has been so unfeeling) definitely moves into baritone/bass territory. It's a simple song, but there is artistry behind what we hear, and Spyres makes the most of the vocal line's inflections:
Range might well have been a determining factor in the programming of this disc, as we go from low to high tenor in "Connais sur mon âms asservie"
A special guest star appears in "Le violin de Crémone" which actually does have a part for violin (here Eloisa-FleurThom). Voice and violin exchange, fetchingly, with the voice the more florid in is embellishments. Certainly, the elision between voice and violin at the end of the second stanza (on the word "Jamais"; "never") brings heightened drama. Thom plays beautifully, especially as her contribution becomes more elaborate:
The setting of Adolphe Nourit's last poem, "Si tu m'as fait à ton image" is expressive - even anguished - in the extreme. Some of the pianistic writing is decidedly orchestral (oscillating neighbour notes at speed seems more of a string thing), but what a song:
Someone light is called for - a salon song, perhaps - and so it is, "Pourquoi me dire qu'il vous aime". But each stanza gets more and more operatic as it approaches its close; all is not as simple as it seems:
The final song is fascinating in including a harp (Sally Pryce) as well as pianoand how that harp is deployed - as an orchestral substitute was well as in its own right. The song is actually called "Le Petite Joneur de harpe". The harp represents old, yet joyous, memories, so remains relatively unchanging:
One of the finest, if not the finest, volume in this exemplary series from Opera Rara. Available form Amazon here.
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