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Tchaikovsky's Mazeppa is appearing twice in the UK this summer.
Welsh National Opera jumps in first with a new production in Cardiff, starting in May.
And the Lyon Opera is bringing a different staging to the Edinburgh Festival in August.
So this reissue of a 1993 studio recording using forces from the Royal Swedish Opera is very timely, and it turns out that both work and performance are of the highest quality.
Set in the Ukraine in the early 18th century, Mazeppa is Tchaikovsky's most violent opera. Executions and tortures, malice and hate, occur in abundance. And these qualities usually dominate the opera's reputation.
But I find the way the composer mixes these with tenderness and gentleness rather striking. After a dramatic introduction, which features crashing cymbals, low string melodies and colour from the winds, the opening scene depicts girls arriving in canoes on the River Dnieper (cue a flowing string melody) rather than a dark battle scene. And the very last scene shows the girl, Maria, resting her wounded suitor Andrey's head on her knee and singing him a chilling lullaby as he dies to close the opera.
It's really not what one expects from the brutal tale of the anti-hero, Mazeppa, and his determination to possess Maria despite the unsuitability of the match.
As Mazeppa, 70-year-old Cossack chief and ruler of the Ukraine, Sergei Leiferkus makes perhaps his most convincing performance on record. His trademark intelligence and distinctive delivery are set off by his voice, which is in its absolute prime. On his first entrance, he dominates the company at once. His Act 2 monologue is typically insightful, probing the character's troubled psyche, and his torment in the final act, when he realises that he has driven his lover insane, is most affecting.
Leiferkus is the centrepiece of a line-up of strong Russian soloists brought in for the recording. I've always admired the soprano Galina Gorchakova, who is brilliant in everything from Tchaikovsky to Verdi (check out her performance in Haitink's recording of Don Carlo). She is ideally cast here, her distinctive Russian sound perfect for her expression of her helpless love for Mazeppa in the first act. She gives a bloodcurdling cry in the choral 'Quarrel Scene' setpiece of Act 1. And her singing of the lullaby at the final curtain is hauntingly done.
No less impressive is Sergei Larin as Andrey, Maria's would-be lover. His tenor has never been more warmly captured, whether in the duet with Maria or in his Act 3 duet, where he sings ardently of his poignant losses and desire to be avenged.
And you can't get a much better mezzo than Larissa Dyadkova, who excels as Lyubov (Kochubey's wife) in the mother's lament of Act 1 Scene 2 particularly. One can easily believe that she would rally her husband into killing Mazeppa! She is also commanding in the mother-daughter duet of Act 2, where she makes Maria realise the misfortune she has brought on her family.
The crucical role of Kochubey, father of Maria, is taken by Antoly Kotscherga. In some ways, he gets the best music, and is certainly a more sympathetic figure than Mazeppa. His monologue in the prison scene is searchingly sung, with a cadence in the voice that brings out the character's anguish.
The smaller roles are all superbly sung, especially Richard Margison as Iskra, Kochubey's friend.
Neeme Järvi's conducting is both lively and passionate in equal measures. The grand, solemn, sad climax to Act 2, for instance, finds the large chorus gathered at the place of execution, and the atmosphere is vividly brought to life by Järvi's inspired direction of the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra and the Chorus of the Royal Opera, Stockholm. A unity of purpose and belief in the quality of Tchaikovsky's music make one believe this to be a true masterpiece when listening.
In all, the best of the current reissues, and a bargain at that.
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