This version of Simon Boccanegra–the original, from 1857–is looked down upon by true Verdians; the composer’s 1881 additions and alterations really turn the opera into something magnificent. The great Council Chamber Scene that closes the first act of the revision not only transforms the character of Boccanegra into a true leader of grand proportions, but it’s also musically ravishing, containing some of Verdi’s most touching melodies in a great ensemble. Verdi also eliminated a sort-of merry cabaletta for Amelia (after her aria) that was de rigueur in ’57 but anachronistic by ’81, turned a typical revenge duet between the conspirators into a practically religious pact, and in general brought the sea to many passages, so crucial in an opera in which a corsair becomes Doge. Elsewhere he tinkered with much of the scoring, changing the color and tone of the opera and making it darker and more severe.
All of this is ironic considering that Verdi blamed the work’s initial failure on the fact that it was “too sad, too depressing”, since what he wound up with in ’81 was even more bleak. But enough of that. It’s very important to have his early (as well as late) ideas on the opera, as we do with Macbeth–and again, as it did a couple of months ago, Opera Rara is supplying the recordings so we can compare, contrast, and enjoy. This was a BBC concert performance broadcast on New Year’s Day, 1976, and it’s a fine addition to the catalog that no Verdian should be without.
Sesto Bruscantini’s reading of the title role (this is the only time in his long career he ever sang it) is remarkably nuanced and intelligent, and if his voice is not the ideal Verdi sound–juicy and plush–we must remember that he already was in his 50s when this was taped. Still, it’s moving and very well (if a bit dryly) sung. As his nemesis Fiesco, bass Gwynne Howell is imposing without trying to overwhelm (he is, after all, a Patrician), and late in the opera he sounds truly regretful. William Elvin, as the good, then bad Paolo, exhibits a big, glorious voice. What happened to him and why didn’t he record more?
André Turp, a French-Canadian, sings the love-interest and future Doge, Gabriele Adorno, with great passion, albeit with some strain on high notes. And as Boccanegra’s long-lost daughter–the emotional center of the opera–is soprano Josella Ligi, otherwise represented on CD only by a Helen of Troy in Mefistofeles (on EMI, with Caballé and Treigle, under Julius Rudel). She sang at La Scala and briefly at the Met but seems to have disappeared after the late ’80s. At any rate, she’s a full-voiced lyric and she sings with grace and charm despite some high notes that threaten to fly into the ugly-sphere. John Matheson leads a taut performance, full of middle-Verdian charm and energy, and the BBC forces play and sing handsomely. The quality of these one-time-only broadcasts, judging from this and the Macbeth, is remarkably high. This is self-recommending.
