This 50-year-old, slightly cut, boxy-sounding recording of Verdi’s 1857 revision of his Stiffelio (written eight years earlier) contains just the type of extroverted, exciting-if-imperfect, absolutely idiomatic middle-Verdi singing that is almost impossible to find today. The work itself, set in 13th-century England, concerns a Saxon Knight, Aroldo, who returns home from the Crusades and soon discovers that his wife, Mina, has been unfaithful to him with a knight errant, Godvino, who was given refuge by Mina’s father, Egberto. Later, Egberto kills Godvino in a duel, Aroldo retires to a hermitage, and in the opera’s silly fourth act, Mina and her father, taking refuge from a storm, happen on the hermitage, where Aroldo finally forgives Mina. (The plot is a bastardization of Stiffelio’s, which was unacceptable because the eponymous hero was a clergyman, the New Testament was read from during the action, and the wife was forgiven in church.)
Aroldo was a success when premiered but soon fell out of favor; this recording brought it back to the opera world’s attention on the occasion of the 50th anniversary of the death of Verdi. It’s a great romp despite its shortcomings. We get an Aroldo named Vasco Campagnano, a tenor who I believe was never heard from again. He’s pretty strained throughout, wearing a lyric voice in what is truly a spinto role, but his rages are very effective and he gets stronger as the opera progresses. Our Mina, Maria Vitale, turns in a performance that can only be called “juicy”. The voice is a good size and color, every word counts, and she has impeccable diction. She gets squally at the top of her range, but there are thrills galore–this is one fearless soprano. Baritone Rolando Panerai, here at the start of his career, like the tenor may have a voice slightly too light for Egberto, and his pitch goes slightly awry under pressure; but his is a heartfelt performance and he’s properly sad and then maniacal in his third act aria and cabaletta (one of Verdi’s most under-discussed and under-appreciated, wildly entertaining scenas). Aldo Bertocci sings the second tenor role of Godvino with oomph and the rest of the cast is sincere.
The orchestra and chorus are well rehearsed and we get from Arturo Basile what he always offered–good preparation, attention to singers, and no imagination whatsoever; which is to say that the weaker moments of the score are undisguised. There’s another recording of the opera on CBS Masterworks under Eve Queler with a good Caballé and a crass Gianfranco Cecchele, but I’d stick with this one if I wanted Aroldo in my collection. Just imagine yourself in an opera house in Italy in 1857 and you’ll be cheering.
