When soprano Emma Eames sang Aida around the turn of the 20th century in Boston, a critic wrote, “Emma Eames appeared as Aida last night. The Nile is still frozen over.” Eames was an unarguably great singer and so is Elina Garanca, but this despicable CD, which I will give little space to, elicits a similar reaction. Never has Dalila sounded so un-seductive (go to Shirley Verrret, Marilyn Horne, or Maria Callas to hear what effect this aria should have). Never has Romeo’s lament over the sleeping Giulietta lacked pleading (yes, I know this is rarely recorded, but on both other occasions I have heard it, it has such longing that it makes one respect Vaccai as a composer). Poor Sapho and her lyre—probably Gounod’s most beautiful aria for mezzo—is matter of fact (go to Verrett again), and DG’s decision to splice in the ultimate high B-flat, and to splice it in so obviously, is insulting and tacky. What is this, 1952?
Don’t get me wrong. Garanca’s voice is one of the world’s current glories: even from top to bottom, produced like a beautifully flowing stream, handsomely colored. Every so often you get the feeling that she has a soul, but it is so rare that only the empty beauty of Kathleen Battle can be compared to it in current memory. Her DVDs of Carmen and Charlotte (in Werther) can fool people into believing she is the complete package, but her fine acting and stunning looks—not to be diminished—make up for a multitude of shallowness, empty artifice, and lack of true commitment. She’s a gorgeous voice machine.
Yves Abel’s beautiful accompaniments are to be commended, as is the playing of the Bologna forces.
