Kudos to Jennifer Larmore for resisting the lure of the Baroque. While her contemporaries are still belting out the same old Handel compilations, this American mezzo has leapt into new territory with a live recording of song-cycles inspired by classical portraits. A disparate repertoire, ranging from Berlioz to Britten, and its sophisticated subject matter offers Larmore the opportunity to show-off a fantastic spectrum of vocal colour.
The programme obeys no strict chronology and plunges straight in at the emotional deep end with Samuel Barber's Andromache's Farewell, a piece of unrelenting (and largely unrewarding) misery. Perhaps aware of his pseudo-Romantic reputation Barber made this harrowing monologue self-consciously modern with a tumultuous opening that quickly evaporates into whooping strings and a dissonant vocal line. Originally set for soprano the piece seems to benefit from a deeper mezzo voice, but even Larmore's rich interpretation cannot relieve the vapidity.
Both musically and dramatically, Hector Berlioz's La mort de Cléopâtre is far more satisfying. It is arguably the most operatic of these four pieces – characterised by bold and brassy bel canto – and certainly benefits from a strong sense of pacing between its four distinct sections of aria and accompagnato.
Whilst Maurice Ravel's Shéhérazade does not constitute a portrait as such, it provides a welcome interlude, a cocoon of dreamy Orientalism in the midst of the death and destruction elsewhere. From the narrator's ecstatic opening line 'Asie…Asie…Asie…' we drift through Tristan Klingsor's extended poetic fantasy with Larmore as our enchanting guide. Pure and bright in the upper range and warm in the middle register, her voice captures the forceful sensuality of 'Asie' and 'La flute enchantée', and luxuriates in the languor of 'L'indifférent'. French is not her mother tongue, and her diction could have been crisper here, but those all-important vowels are shapely and seductive.
Our blissful escapism is given a harsh reality shock with Phaedra, Benjamin Britten's late, great cantata for mezzo-soprano. It is terrifying, awe-inspiring, all consuming, and yet framed on a much smaller scale than anything we have heard so far. Orchestration is sparse, little more than exposed strings, percussion elements and a spidery harpsichord line, but supremely efficient in conveying both intense drama and a feel for the antique, and Larmore engages well with her suicidal protagonist. Not only does she capture the sense of corrupted grandeur that dominates the piece, but also the initial lustful spark that seals Phaedra's tragic fate.
Grant Park Orchestra, under Carlos Kalmar, provide a balanced and reliable accompaniment throughout the recording, which is split between two Chicago concerts, one at the Orchestra Hall and the other al fresco in Millennium Park. But credit should be lavished on Larmore: her theme is wonderfully imaginative and she takes us on an exhausting but thrilling adventure.
share with:
