Giuseppe Verdi: Verdiana II

Could the “Swan of Busseto” ever have imagined the place his operas would occupy in the modern recording industry? Perhaps not. Yet “il buon Peppino”, as his companion and later wife Giuseppina Strepponi affectionately called him, has become one of its most enduring composers. This second volume takes us through some of his most celebrated arias, from the energy of his early years towards the assurance of his maturity.

Verdiana, conceived by Sergio Pellegrini with the orchestral musicians of Parma, here brings together the conductor and the Italian tenor Roberto Aronica. Their second recorded collaboration explores the compelling force of tenor arias whose apparent simplicity conceals considerable complexity. The programme moves from the early Verdi of Ernani and I Lombardi alla prima crociata to the so-called “popular trilogy”: La traviata, Rigoletto and Il trovatore. “Popular” should not imply uncomplicated. Verdi’s meticulous weaving of words and music supports orchestration that can be explosively dramatic, vividly descriptive and emotionally profound. Its theatrical imagination invites comparison with Shakespeare.

This recording draws on a rich inheritance of performing traditions, which the artists approach in pursuit of the expressive core of Verdi’s operatic language. Arturo Toscanini’s familiar warning that tradition can become a form of betrayal remains pertinent. In Verdiana II, inherited practices are directed towards a broader dramatic purpose, joining musical invention to theatrical emotion.

The programme also invites us to think about the singers whose performances Verdi himself scrutinised. Strepponi, Stolz and Tamagno are only a few of the artists associated with the shaping of his operatic world. Their example points towards the “mystery beyond the notes” that each performer must seek to reveal. From this perspective, we may consider the works on the disc: Aronica and Pellegrini bring together instinct and reason, vigour and delicacy, passion and reflection, while attending closely to Verdi’s musical thought.

La traviata, an opera in three acts, was first performed in Venice in 1853 and initially met with a disappointing reception. It has since become one of the most frequently performed operas in the repertoire. Verdi worked on it at his home at Sant’Agata, developing the drama through the intimate relationship between musical conception and keyboard composition. Its opening Prelude [1] begins this disc with cold, tense sonorities. A few accents interrupt the sustained line of the violins, creating a disturbing stillness; the darker string harmonies lead towards the theme associated with “Amami, Alfredo”. This delicate, heart-rending introduction acts almost as a freeze-frame before the bustle of the celebration.

A related agitation emerges in Alfredo’s outwardly radiant declaration of love for Violetta. In his Act II scene, “Lunge da lei … De’ miei bollenti spiriti” [6], youthful ardour unfolds over persistent string pizzicatos. The writing calls for the resources of a lyric tenor: an expansive, flowing vocal line gives way to the more urgent momentum of the concluding cabaletta.

Today, an inscription recalls Rome’s Teatro Apollo, the theatre where Il trovatore was first performed in 1853 and which was later demolished. The opera’s dark, nocturnal atmosphere has invited speculation about its relationship to the death of Verdi’s mother, to whom he was deeply attached. The suggestion that Azucena’s complex character reflects that loss is an interpretation rather than an established account of the opera’s origins. Verdi’s correspondence reveals little about his mother, and his reticence should not be mistaken for indifference.

“Ah! sì, ben mio … Di quella pira” [2] is among the most emotionally charged scenes in the tenor repertoire. Manrico first gives warmth and tenderness to his love for Leonora. The sudden change in the dramatic situation then redirects that energy into an impassioned determination to rescue his mother. The scene’s contrast between intimacy and action is central to its force. Read in the personal terms suggested above, it may also evoke a farewell to a maternal figure who remains less visible in accounts of Verdi’s family life than his father.

Written during the same broad period, Rigoletto achieves an exceptional balance of theatrical concentration, demanding vocal writing and orchestral clarity. In this sense it can be called almost “Mozartian”: every element is exposed, and the relationship between voice and accompaniment must remain precise, as it does in Bellini. The result is a musical mosaic of remarkable coherence.

A comparison often attributed to Stravinsky sets the musical abundance of “La donna è mobile” [4] against Wagner’s vast Ring cycle. Whether taken literally or as a provocative aphorism, it draws attention to Verdi’s ability to reach deeply into human character with the simplest melodic means. This compact song participates in the same stylistic and formal assurance heard in “Questa o quella” [7] and in the more reflective “Ella mi fu rapita! … Parmi veder le lagrime” [9]. Through the Duke of Mantua, Verdi juxtaposes brilliant, agile display with broader and more weighted lyricism. The contrast anticipates the varied vocal demands made on Violetta in La traviata, often described as requiring three different soprano voices.

Performing the “popular” Verdi is therefore a complex undertaking, however familiar the melodies may feel to listeners. Verdi’s own comments on Rigoletto emphasised his conception of a drama built around a continuous succession of duets, rather than conventional arias and finales. This was an assertion of dramatic unity, rather than a literal description of every number in the finished score. It reveals the practical conviction of a direct, plain-speaking composer who resisted easy concessions.

Verdi had to contend repeatedly with censorship, revising titles, characters and settings to satisfy the authorities. Nevertheless, his idea of a work capable of reaching a broad public depended on an overall dramatic vision. Like Wagner, though by very different means, he sought continuity and coherence rather than a collection of disconnected attractions designed only for immediate applause.

I Lombardi, Ernani and Macbeth belong to the period Verdi later described as his “galley years”. The political climate surrounding these works was turbulent. During the Five Days of Milan, from 18 to 22 March 1848, the city rose against the Austrian forces commanded by Field Marshal Radetzky. Barricades filled the streets, and the insurgents eventually forced the troops to withdraw. These events form part of the wider setting in which Italian audiences heard Verdi’s early operas.

The years from 1842 to 1849 brought intense work, pressure and uneven theatrical fortunes. Verdi had to establish himself among celebrated colleagues while developing the dramatic language that would become unmistakably his own. The early operas reveal a particularly cherished aspect of his music: their combination of intense lyricism and vocal brilliance could stir the audiences filling the galleries of La Scala and La Fenice. His association with patriotic feeling later found a celebrated expression in the slogan “Viva VERDI”, used in the late 1850s with its double meaning as an acclamation of the composer and of Vittorio Emanuele, Re d’Italia.

These works also retain a ceremonial or almost sacred character, drawing on the vigorous sound of the bands Verdi knew in his youth while already displaying a disciplined musical style. In “La mia letizia infondere” from I Lombardi [3], the winds provide a lively counterpart to Oronte’s vocal line. Their skilful deployment also stands out in “Mercé, diletti amici” from Ernani [8], where the inheritance of band writing is absorbed into the exchange between orchestra and voice.

In Macbeth, first performed in 1847, “Ah, la paterna mano” [10] shows the expressive use of individual instrumental colours, including the clarinet, in figures carefully interwoven with Macduff’s singing. “Quando le sere al placido” [11] then forms a bridge towards Verdi’s maturity. It comes from Luisa Miller, the three-act tragic melodrama first performed at Naples’s Teatro San Carlo in December 1849. Rodolfo’s wounded love for Luisa finds expression in the directness of a heart-rending melodic line.

Un ballo in maschera, first performed at Rome’s Teatro Apollo in 1859, emerged from a particularly difficult encounter with Neapolitan censorship. The authorities objected to the assassination of a sovereign and required far-reaching changes to the drama. Verdi’s correspondence records his anxiety over the libretto’s approval. Unwilling to surrender his dramatic conception, he broke with Naples and took the work to Rome, where further negotiations produced the version known today. His resistance reveals both artistic determination and a strong aversion to compromises imposed from outside.

In this refined work, lucid writing and formal control support a sophisticated interplay between pit and stage, already apparent in the short orchestral introduction. In “Forse la soglia attinse … Ma se m’è forza perderti” [5], Riccardo embodies the mature Verdian tenor: lyricism, strength and a finely shaped vocal line illuminate a text whose rhythms are integral to the music.

Verdiana II draws the listener into the rich world of Verdi’s art—clear, passionate and instinctive, yet exacting in its dramatic construction. It is an art that continues to speak with immediacy.

Album notes by Gabriele Renzi. Original English translation by Fabiana Binarelli; English text revised for this presentation.