Once past the sly title, designed to bring the word “ménage” to mind, underscored by the come-hither look of the CD cover, not to mention a two-page spread in the booklet that shows William Berger in bed looking both coy and knowing with a man on one side and a woman on the other, this turns out to be one of the most delightful recital discs of the past year—one of the few that didn’t actually “need” a gimmick.
William Berger is a name/baritone new to me; I understand that he is South African and based in Great Britain. As it turns out, the “trois” refers to Haydn, Mozart, and Cimarosa. Aside from Cimarosa’s Il Maestro di Capella, a long, comic monolog in which the “maestro” upbraids and “teaches” his orchestra, each of the arias and duets (with Carolyn Sampson) finds the characters in one stage or another of love—seduction, jealousy, amazement—and in the case of the arias from Haydn’s L’isola disabitata and Armida, friendship.
Berger’s voice is light, more potent at the top than the lower reaches, rich and expressive in the middle, agile enough for both coloratura and trills. His sexy pleading as the Count, in “Crudel! Perché finora”, is warm and convincing, and Carolyn Sampson is an utterly enchanting Susanna. I can’t recall hearing this duet, or the Count’s big aria that follows, sung as smoothly and with as much character. The Finnish baritone Jorma Hynninen came close, but Berger is more treacherous, with an audible sneer, with an absolutely spotless run leading up to a spot-on high F-sharp at the aria’s close. His Don Giovanni is the least successful portrayal on the CD; while “Deh vieni…” is smooth and alluring and sung with a ravishing legato, “Fin ch’an del vino” is underpowered and lacks lust. Guglielmo’s “Rivolgete a lui lo sguardo” is gorgeous, the mood switches delineated well, and the outcome heroic. And he is the most delightful of Papagenos, with Sampson lovely as both Pamina and Papagena, and his tone painting very different from one duet to the next. His tone is almost ideal for these three composers, and I imagine, for earlier music; he will probably excel in some of the French repertoire as his tone ripens.
Hearing highlights from five of Haydn’s operas is a mixed blessing: though filled with lovely cantilena and fine orchestrations, Haydn’s operatic efforts pale beside Mozart’s in the ability to make us care about the character’s situation, even in brief excerpts. But his wit, grace, and charm are all in evidence, and frankly, the flirtatious duet from Orlando Paladino is a sexy little piece, well worth hearing again. Berger makes the most of each aria, and you only wish that they stayed in the memory. The Cimarosa is a “stunt” piece, a showpiece for bass-baritone that I have only previously heard with plenty of exaggerated mugging. What a joy it is to hear Berger sing every note and articulate every word (his diction is impeccable). Nicholas McGegan leads with total understanding and support, and the modern-instrument Scottish Chamber Orchestra plays with perfect 18th-century style. This is not your run-of-the-mill recital: it has personality, it is thought-through, and it is vastly musical and entertaining.
