Reviewer: John
W. Barker
Stefano Landi (1587-1639) was
a Roman by birth and career. He enjoyed the support of several powerful and
culture-loving Roman families, for whom he composed numerous vocal pieces.
Landi might well have been the personality who would make Rome the successor
to Florence and Mantua as the commanding center for early experimentation in
opera. Because of the fluctuating opposition of successive popes to
theatrical performances, such was not to be, and it was Venice that would
fill the vacuum. It was during an early period in Padua (his family’s home
city), in about 1619, that Landi made his only venture into opera, composing
La Morte d’Orfeo (The Death of Orpheus).
That places the work almost
two decades after the first Florentine ventures treating the Orpheus story
and 12 years after the trailblazing Orfeo of Claudio Monteverdi—who was 20
years older than Landi and would outlive him by 4 years. There is no
evidence that Landi’s opera was ever given a staged performance. He was able
to make a compensatory mark in Rome, however, with his important
contribution to early oratorio in his Sant’Alessio (1631), labeled a dramma
musicale an d actually staged privately. Landi’s five-act tragicommedia
pastorale takes the Orpheus story to the final phase of the musical hero’s
life, following what the Florentines and Monteverdi treated. When Landi’s
work begins, Orfeo has already lost Eurydice definitively, and has foresworn
women, dedicating himself to art in his pastoral world. Divine powers,
knowing the terrible fate that awaits him, attempt to intervene; but that
fate is sealed. The god Bacchus, outraged that Orfeo has renounced not only
women but also wine (if not song), unleashes on him his frenzied Maenads,
who tear him to pieces. His mother, the Muse Calliope, laments ; and Mercury
shows Orfeo that Euridice (who appears only briefly) has drunk the
memory-destroying waters of Lethe, and persuades Orfeo to do the same. (He
is barred from the underworld by Caronte, who presses the Lethe draft with a
drinking song.) Forthwith, Orfeo is welcomed in heaven by Jove himself and
praised by happy choruses.
Though the plot is somewhat spare, the treatment is full of characters
allowing a variety of personifications. There are 26 roles in the piece, and
the 9 singers identified above take double and even triple assignments—and
there are many choral functions: shepherds, satyrs, maenads, gods, etc.
Landi’s music mostly follows the established idiom of monodic,
proto-recitative declamation, but with flexibility in treating both serious
and grotesque or humorous characters. Notable is the frequency of choral
interjections, which do not follow Monteverdi’s use of madrigalian textures,
but lean rather to more formal polyphony. (The choral sections in
Sant’Alessio are also splendid.) Aside from a pair of cornets, the
instrumentation is limited to strings and continuo—far less extensive than
what Monteverdi allowed himself.
Recordings have been slow to
catch up with Landi’s music. In recent years, at least two fine single-disc
programs of his short arias and madrigals have appeared: one from Alpha (20:
M/J 2004), the other from Musica Ficta (8021: S/O 2015). Landi’s
Sant’Alessio had already been given its debut recording under William
Christe for Erato (14340: M/A 1997). Unfortunately, that excellent
presentation is long gone and has had no successor. La Morte d’Orfeo was
recorded in 1987 (Accent, never reviewed in these pages). This Pan edition
is a straight reissue of that 1987 recording.
It still stands as a wonderful
realization of this fascinating and significant score. The solo singers are
of that generation which would be making early-music history. To single out
just a few, Elves is an appealing Orfeo. Countertenor Chance and tenor
Jochens etch quite strong characters, as does bass Van der Kamp. The others
are admirably versatile too. Perhaps the most musically impressive moments,
though, are contributed by the chorus (prepared with the help of Erik Van
Nevel), with wonderful vigor and color. Stubbs gives the same astute overall
direction that he would later bring to his work with the Boston Early Music
Festival—making me wonder why he has not brought this work to Boston.
The sound, nearly 30 years old
by now, is as fresh and clear as ever. The album booklet gives good notes
and a plot synopsis. The full Italian libretto is also given, but no
translation—the one fly in the ointment. Otherwise this is indispensable for
any serious collector of Baroque opera.
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