
One of the great pleasures of attending the theatre is to see a singer come out onstage when the curtain rises and to know that the mere fact of her appearing will put you in a good mood, even if you can already sense from the orchestra that she will be singing something sombre, moving or emotionally charged. Strange though it may seem, sadness, too, can be a source of pleasure in this way. And that pleasure increases as soon as the singer opens her mouth. Life's difficulties are all swept away and forgotten.
Patricia Petibon achieves this marvellous feat: she makes you happy even when what she is singing brings tears to your eyes. But the most astonishing thing of all about the present programme is the exceptionally close correlation between her own very special qualities and the music that she performs.
Patricia Petibon sings all kinds of music from Lully and Handel to Mozart, Debussy and Bernstein but is particularly fond of Baroque music. Even so, it was not with this that she began her career. “When I arrived at the Paris Conservatoire and studied with Rachel Yakar", she recalls, “I worked on all sorts of music with her. At that time I also sang Zerbinetta in Strauss's Ariadne auf Naxos. I continue to love all kinds of music: to sing the part of a nun in Poulenc's Dialogues des Carmélites is as moving as lending my voice to all the lovers I've recorded." As for the Baroque period, it was her meeting with William Christie which, as she herself acknowledges, “pointed me in the right direction".
The music that Patricia Petibon sings on this new recording is a distillation of early opera, a genre that began in Italy before spreading to the rest of Europe. Baroque sensibilities, coupled with the tastes and pleasures of the time, could hardly be satisfied with a style ofmusical declamation that contemporaries described as spianata - plain and simple. They needed an element of surprise: they needed emotion and wonderment. Composers, audiences and, above all, singers wanted a sense of the marvellous, a magical aspect that even suggested folly: in short, a style described as fiorito. The poetry became the servant of the music, which sought to characterize the affetti, or affections, giving rise to a new, closed form, the da capo aria, which allowed the emotions to find lyrical expression, whether that expression was dramatic or more lightweight, and allowed the singer to develop that emotion through his or her vocal virtuosity. Emotion was in this way combined with wonderment. The Baroque world is deliberately located in a world of unreality, vocal marvels reflecting a staging filled with apparitions, flying machines and clouds. Itechoes the lyricism of Gian Lorenzo Bernini's Saint Teresa, just as the architectural virtuosity of Francesco Borromini showcased that of the singers in the churches that he designed.
As Patricia Petibon says, she tries to “act out what the music says". The Handel arias that she has recorded here are in themselves enough to provide a cross-section of all the musical and emotional possibilities of Italianate opera of this period.
At one extreme we have “Lascia ch'io pianga" from Rinaldo, a classic example of the complex blend of voluptuous sweetness and desperate love which, however oxymoronic, sums up the Baroque exuberance that brings together everything that music is capable of expressing: a pure and, if one may say so, voluptuously platonic love combined with a despair that is none the less filled with charm.
At the other extreme is “Volate, amori" from Ariodante, in which the text - a mere pretext - allows the music to conjure up a picture of little winged cupids similar to those favoured by Baroque painters. As such, the aria gives the performer a chance to ornament the vocal line with as much freedom, invention and imagination as she can.
Between these two extremes are all the arias in which the words require the music to establish a lively, sometimes violent contrast between wilfully conflicting emotions. And once again Handel, who is able to explore every possible emotion, is happy to express Alcina's despair and anger when she is abandoned by Ruggiero. By the same token, Cleopatra in Giulio Cesare finds that her anguish, too, is transformed into rage.
But violence is sometimes enough on its own: in Dalinda's aria from the third act of Ariodante, anger explodes and spreads to every corner of its domain, just as we can imagine Queen Christina of Sweden exploding with rage. It is at points like this that the singing must make the score explode, as it were, and it is up to the singer to go beyond the notes on the written page, just as anger sanctions every breach of the rules of propriety.
Handel, singularly successful in combining his Saxon genius with the music he discovered in Italy, was by no means alone in his achievements. Although little known today, Antonio Sartorio, Benedetto Marcello and Nicola Porpora allow us a glimpse of the incredible range of Italian operas at this period: in Venice alone, some 440 operas were premièred in the space of 40 years. In Griselda, Alessandro Scarlatti presents us with an even greater degree of violence and at the same time a freedom that Italian opera, not yet straitjacketed by Metastasian rules, could still permit itself, while Marcello depicts the lamentations of Arianna who, inevitably perhaps, has been abandoned to her fate. In the very specific genre of sacred opera, Alessandro Stradella allows us to hear the delightfully lascivious entreaties of Salome before she dances.
As for Vivaldi, his operas - many of which survive in manuscript form in Turin - were long overshadowed by his concertos. He was one of the composers who gave his singers the greatest opportunities to escape from the notes on the printed page. Whether it was his own bravura violin playing, his work with the young female singers at the Ospedale della Pietà in Venice or his close relations with Anna Girò that allowed him to achieve this freedom, it is difficult to say. But there is no doubt that he dazzles us, as does Patricia Petibon.
(Philippe Beaussant)Antonio Sartorio (1630 - 1680)
Giulio Cesare in Egitto
1) Quando voglio [2:41]
Alessandro Stradella (1642 - 1682)
San Giovanni Battista2) Queste lagrime e sospiri [4:42]
George Frideric Handel (1685 - 1759)
Alcina
3) Tornami a vagheggiar [4:58]
Rinaldo
4) "Lascia ch'io pianga" [5:38]
Ariodante HWV 33
5) "Volate, amori" [3:49]
Giulio Cesare6) "Piangerò la sorte mia" [6:59]
Alessandro Scarlatti (1660 - 1725)
La Griselda7) Se il mio dolor t'offende [2:40]
George Frideric Handel (1685 - 1759)
Alcina8) Ah, mio cor [12:24]
Ariodante HWV 33
9) Neghittosi, or voi che fate [3:19]
Nicola Porpora (1686 - 1768)
Lucio Papirio10) Morte amara [4:30]
Antonio Vivaldi (1678 - 1741)
L'Olimpiade11) Siam navi all'onde [7:18]
Antonio Sartorio (1630 - 1680)
L'Orfeo12) Orfeo, tu dormi [5:17]
Benedetto Marcello (1686 - 1739)
Arianna13) Come mai puoi vedermi piangere [5:14]
Alessandro Scarlatti (1660 - 1725)
Il Sedecia, Rè di Gerusalemme14) Caldo sangue [5:55]
Patricia PetibonVenice Baroque Orchestra Andrea Marcon
2010 Deutsche Grammophon GmbH, Hamburg
1 CD DDD
477 8763 1 GH
You can buy it on
Amazon.comYou can
download herePASSWORD: elhenry.MusicIsTheKey