Berlioz’s original intentions for his only song cycle, Les nuits d’été, specified a mezzo or tenor and piano. When he orchestrated the songs, he transposed two songs downward (“Le spectre de la rose” and “Sur les lagunes: Lamento”) and indicated particular voice-types: mezzo or tenor for “Villanelle”, contralto for “Le spectre de la rose”, baritone or mezzo for “Sur les lagunes”, mezzo or tenor for “Absence”, tenor for “Au cimetière”, and mezzo or tenor for “L’île inconnue”. The cycle eventually became the property of fine mezzo-sopranos and a few sopranos (with or without transposing a song or two) like Janet Baker, Regine Crespin, Joyce DiDonato, Veronique Gens, Jessye Norman, and many others–all very worthy. Tenors and baritones have recorded the songs as well: Nicolai Gedda, José van Dam, Stéphane Degout, and a few others, none thoroughly successfully, what with a strained top note here, a barely audible low note there.
In 1969 Philips released a set under the Berlioz specialist Colin Davis that adhered somewhat to Berlioz’s voice specifications, insofar as four different singers were employed. It wasn’t very good. The tenor was unpleasant-sounding, the mezzo (an otherwise fine Josephine Veasey) made little of her song, and baritone John Shirley-Quirk did not sound at home. A somewhat failed experiment.
Just released is a stunner of a reading from the self-described bari-tenor Michael Spyres. He has an amazing range, with resonance and color throughout; other recordings have heard him sing arias from Mozart’s Count Almaviva to the Count di Luna, to high-flying Rossini roles. He sings Berlioz’s songs in their original keys with ease, so that “Villanelle” maunders gracefully and easily and “Sur les lagunes” is dark and mysterious, and yes, he takes the low F at its end with sepulchral security. He has no fear of overt emotionalism within this classical set.
“Le spectre de la rose” can be tricky, but its combination of desolation and gentleness sounds just right here, its hallucinatory quality always present. “Absence” comes across as a sad dream, Spyres’ plaintive, easily produced sound simply gorgeous. “L’île inconnue” always comes as a welcome, if odd, relief, and it is just that here. What a beautiful, unique performance of these songs, from a singer with a warm, responsive, voice and both style and taste.
The second work on the CD presents another work by Berlioz, this time for solo viola and orchestra, Harold en Italie. The great virtuoso Niccolò Paganini had contacted Berlioz, praising a new Stradivarius viola he’d acquired and asked Berlioz to compose a suitable showcase for him and it. Berlioz came back with Harold, but Paganini was disappointed: the work leaned more toward the orchestra than the soloist, and when Paganini saw the number of rests for the viola in the first movement, he demurred and backed out of the project.
This performance is splendid: Timothy Ridout impresses from his opening notes. Harold’s introspective, somewhat sad debut In the Mountains is here so filled with warmth that we actually are interested in him. When it picks up speed and tension, it rocks as only Berlioz can. The Pilgrim’s March begins with slowish but sure footing, and Ridout blends ideally, with care and a sense for the long line. His filigreed playing later in the movement is graceful and elegant. And his tone is lovely. I can’t say I sensed much religiosity, but the mood is pensive.
The Serenade makes the most of the woodwinds, toodling along with jollity, and its overall effect is simply charming. The finale, titled Orgy of Brigands, begins with a bang, and then conductor John Nelson manages the manic-depression of the sneaky/rambunctious goings on about as well as I’ve ever heard, coming close to Colin Davis’ incomparable frenzy while keeping the rhythms absolutely right.
In all a fine CD, handsomely recorded and gorgeously played by the Strasbourg forces. The song cycle is self-recommending–probably the best outing by a solo tenor we will ever hear, and a Harold to stand with the best.
