This set has been available on private CDs for a while; this release is its first official appearance. It was recorded at Glyndebourne in 1965 and stars Montserrat Caballé, moments before she became an overnight sensation at Carnegie Hall, replacing Marilyn Horne in Donizetti’s Lucrezia Borgia–vocally quite another kettle of fish. This set proves that at the time, Caballé probably could sing anything beautifully, and with great expression.
She apparently learned the role in six days (she arrived not knowing the part and was suffering from hay fever–ah, the trials and tribulations!)–but this recording, the sixth show in the run, shows no uncertainty: her German may not be perfect, but she enunciates clearly, sings from within the character, and is simply luscious in the role. And this is her only souvenir of the part on disc.
She was 32 at the time–Strauss said the Marschallin was in her mid-30s–and her dignity and charm are exactly right for the part. The few high notes hold no terrors for her. The give-and-take with Teresa Zylis-Gara’s Octavian has energy, playfulness, and sweetness, and Caballé caresses the phrases as she might caress Octavian. It is a thoroughly committed performance.
Zylis-Gara is a fine surprise in the part. She’s impetuous and boyish, and because she’s a soprano and not a mezzo, as normally is assigned, the high spots sound easy and conversational, as they should. The only fly-in-the-ointment, vocally speaking, is the Sophie of Edith Mathis. Normally she’s among the most reliable of light lyrics, but the high tessitura is not for her–she flats at the most crucial moments in the Presentation, and elsewhere the tone is not ear-friendly. I don’t care how pert and cute she may have been (and accompanying notes explain that she was pregnant), or how admirable her attention to text: she sounds awful 75 percent of the time, and after all, this is an opera. Otto Edelmann, though long-in-the-tooth, can still get to the core of the arrogant, wealthy bumpkin Ochs. The others are all superb ensemble players, but the Italian Singer most assuredly is no such thing.
The recording’s sonics are hardly up to current standards, but there will be few complaints about that. The performance is the thing, and it’s well-paced and lovingly led by John Pritchard, with the LPO and Glyndebourne Chorus in top form. After an oddly unimpressive Prelude to Act 1–perhaps it’s the acoustics–the brass brays out, the winds are lovely, the strings creamy, the Waltz accents alternately heavy and graceful. The “Marie Thérèse” trio is taken very slowly, probably to show off Caballé’s breath control and pianissimos, and it’s hypnotically lovely. This isn’t likely to be anyone’s only recording of Rosenkavalier–the Karajan/Schwarzkopf/EMI set is the first choice–but it’s a very special and valuable addition to the catalog if just for Caballé.
