Word: sung
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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FAURÉ: LA CHANSON D'ÈVE, AND FAURÉ'DEBUSSY: SIX VERLAINE POEMS SUNG BY PHYLLIS CURTIN (Cambridge). In the Song of Eve, Charles van Lerberghe's poetry runs with Eve through paradise on the world's first morning-fresh, vibrant, exulting. Fauré's setting is considerably tamer, though it echoes the poet's purity, as does Soprano Curtin. The flip side of this unusual record consists of settings by Fauré and Debussy of the same six Verlaine lyrics. It is a tribute to the richness of French songs that both...
...ANGELES: A WORLD OF SONG (Angel). All these songs are well known, and several are chestnuts. All the more wonder that Soprano de los Angeles has produced a fresh and enlightening record. She gives La Paloma a relaxed performance, full of a sly, feminine humor; her gypsy songs are sung head-on with open, hearty tones. On the other side. Ich Liebe Dich, Brahms's Lullaby and Songs My Mother Taught Me get serene, tender treatment. Many of these songs have been recorded by Elisabeth Schwarzkopf (Angel), with whom De los Angeles shares the title of Queen of Song...
...often the care, the audience's favorite was Zerlina, sung as soubrettishly as bearable by Spring Fairbank. Although her two charming scenes with Masetto were flawless, perhaps the most stylish singing came in the "La ci darem" duet with Giovanni. Bass Tom Weber, while rather dry-sounding and somewhat strained, made the most of Leporello's varied moods and tasks, though perhaps not with the same hilarity of his Don Alfonso (of last year's Cori). Less satisfactory were the nasal tenor of August Paglialunga, a peculiarly huge Don Ottavio, and the half-sung Masetto of Don Meaders...
...flabby old Blimp with brandy jowls and a menacing pewter complexion. Plagued by insomnia and stunned by sedatives, he suffered intermittent hallucinations, persecuting voices, recurrent depressions. About a year ago he gave up writing almost entirely. And then last week on Easter Sunday, home from a Mass sung (to his crusty satisfaction) in Latin, he climbed the stairs to his study and died of a heart attack. His novels survive and will continue to survive as long as there are readers who can savor what Critic V. S. Pritchett calls "the beauty of his malice...
...failings of the chorus became particularly evident in the large numbers. Neither "Into Parliament" nor "We Are Dainty Little Fairies" is well articulated or loudly sung. The choreographer who has no separate credit but I assume to be one or both of the co-directors--doesn't handle a crowded stage any too well...