Alto Sara Mingardo makes a fine impression in music that demands a singer of exceptional interpretive skills and a voice that’s versatile yet maintains a distinctive timbral quality. These Italian solo works rely less on inherent melodic charm than on the skills of a singer able to convey a range of emotions but who’s also totally aware of her voice and its capabilities, who knows the difference between style and artifice. And that pretty much defines Mingardo’s way with these pieces, most of which are lengthy and demand a variety of dramatic expressive devices, from the intricate and often subtle convolutions of recitative to more overtly formidable Handelian allegro flourishes. We hear Mingardo’s impressive vocal and theatrical abilities immediately in the opening, nine-minute-long lullaby by Tarquinio Merula, where the sighing, monotonously repetitive accompaniment serves as foil to the singer’s very personal, heartfelt sentiment–none other than Mary’s poignant wishes for her son’s well-being, in life and in the pain and death she knows will one day come.
Although there are some big names here–Handel, Vivaldi, and Monteverdi–the most interesting and fundamentally beautiful works prove to be by Carissimi and Legrenzi, who offer some of the more moving and memorable melodic material, which Mingardo seems to relish and on which she lavishes the full measure of her rich tone. Her voice tends to be slightly more pointed and penetrating–less warm–than other contemporary world-class altos and mezzos, such as Stephanie Blythe, Marie-Nicole Lemieux, and Joyce DiDonato–but it’s a powerful, eminently facile and formidable instrument and Mingardo uses it wisely and effectively.
The only points of tedium in this recital (and they are few) come from the material–for instance, the endless recitative of Monteverdi’s “Se i languidi miei sguardi”, and the less-than-first-rate Handel cantata, which only redeems itself with a lovely final aria and with some fiery vocal passages in an earlier movement that Mingardo tosses off with impressive ease. Otherwise, this is a very entertaining program that benefits from the finely honed ensemble work of Rinaldo Alessandrini and his Concerto Italiano, and from top-notch sound. The liner notes are an extensive essay on the nature and quality of the alto voice and its changing significance and function through the history of singing. Reading the whole thing is a bit of a chore (although not without interest), but fortunately you don’t have to in order to know that whatever a true alto is, Mingardo is the real thing. [7/21/2004]
