It’s been a while since we’ve had a new recording of Entführung, and now two have appeared: this one and one led by René Jacobs on Harmonia Mundi. They are different enough from one another, however, to be almost incomparable. From the opening bars here, the moderate-sized Chamber Orchestra of Europe under Yannick Nézet-Séguin proves itself to be an alert modern-instrument band that nonetheless bows to the period-instrument movement. The attacks are swift and sharp, the use of the piccolo is clear and brilliant, the emphasis on the Janissary music is bright and shiny. We hear a pianoforte clinking away unobtrusively. And throughout, we hear orchestral niceties.
Mozart’s marvelous woodwind scoring is at its most beguiling here, both upfront and in second voices, and Nézet-Séguin also seems to love his singers, giving them plenty of room and breathing with them (in an opera that requires the most diligent breath control imaginable). He leads it like the comic opera it is, with verve a-plenty, and one senses the young Mozart blossoming. This is, orchestrally, an ideal performance.
I’m second to none in my admiration for tenor Rolando Villazon; his Rodolfo, Alfredo, Nemorino, Werther, and Hoffmann have moved me to tears and cheers. He returned a few years ago from a vocal crisis and is reinventing himself as a Mozart tenor; he and Nézet-Séguin have been recording the Mozart operas yearly in conjunction with the Baden-Baden festival. I thoroughly enjoyed his Don Ottavio on DG a while ago (see reviews archive), but here, perhaps because the recording favors the voices, he sounds as if he’s bullying the music.
Note for note he’s impeccable, placing just the right longing into each moment of “O wie ängstlich”, right on the money in the terzett that closes Act 1, managing the coloratura and long breaths in “Ich baue ganz” with poise and ease, and singing with fine German diction. But his muscular approach is, unlike his Ottavio, more in evidence here and it’s inappropriate. I won’t complain too much about it because his artistry is undeniable, but the sound itself becomes somewhat hectoring after a while.
You have only to hear Paul Schweinester’s Pedrillo, hardly a shrinking violet and properly ferocious and mock-heroic in his call to arms, “Frisch sum Kampfe”, to realize the company around him is better suited to Mozart’s style in this opera. Go to Gedda or Wunderlich for comparisons and Villazon gets into trouble; on his own, he’s still wonderful if not quite as idiomatically flawless as the others.
Diana Damrau invariably has to rein in a certain harshness in her tone at the top of her voice (her Donna Anna is marvelous), but her Konstanze must be heard as a blazing success: fluent in coloratura, fearless, and presenting a strong woman who stands up to Selim. She sings “Martern aller arten” effortlessly. Anna Prohaska in the can-be-annoying role of Blonde manages to charm, and the ridiculous high Es do not sound as much like stunts as they can. She’s clearly her mistress’ equal–fierce and funny.
Franz-Josef Selig makes a superb Osmin, probably the best since either Kurt Moll or Martti Talvela, his agile and pitch-black voice able to express both Osmin’s silliness and nastiness, with remarkable low notes (that really are notes–even the D) and easy bounces back up to the staff two octaves later. Now-retired baritone Thomas Quasthoff’s Selim is by turns scary, vicious, and eventually a pleasure. He’s a terrific vocal actor.
In all, this is not a groundbreaking performance–Fricsay and Böhm would not be horrified and neither would Hogwood. There’s nothing wrong with the middle of this particular road, and there’s enough here to make it a fine choice after the Gardiner, which is of course for HIP people and features Stanford Olsen’s Belmonte–handsomely sung but without personality. And Solti’s, though a bit bloated, is incredibly well sung. But Yannick Nézet-Séguin is a great conductor.
