It’s Holy Week (as I write) and I just received this new CD from our Doyenne. Good timing. For the concert stage (and the opera house), I think of Pergolesi as essentially a one-hit wonder (each). I won’t pretend to know his opera buffa, La Serva Padrona, let alone hide the fact that I drove right to Wikipedia for background on the guy. (Fun fact: the Pergolesi Research Center is out in Provo, UT at Brigham Young University). 

Meanwhile, back at Wikipedia, I learned this about the Stabat Mater:  “It was previously stated on this page and erroneously reprinted on hundreds of other pages, that it was commissioned by an order of monks, but rather a group of pious and charitable gentlemen such as existed in cities all over Italy. It was this group that presented an annual Good Friday meditation in honor of the Virgin Mary; Pergolesi’s work replaced one composed for the same forces by Alessandro Scarlatti only nine years before, but which was already perceived as “old-fashioned,” so rapidly had public tastes changed.”

So let’s see. “Pious and charitable gentlemen” with a thing for Our Lady and her suffering, as demonstrated musically by male alto and soprano. Add in a sense of fashion—as though an order of musical monks wasn’t gay enough. No wonder this record found it’s way to Parterre.com. But wait: It gets gayer.

The whole thing appears to be a diva project built around Anna Netrebko, and in this regard, it’s pretty much by the book. First, disguise the fact by calling it something else (in this case, “a tribute to Pergolesi”). Get a middle-of-the-road chamber band (Orchestra dell’academia nazionale di Santa Cecilia: modern fiddles and bows, light vibrato, and light on attitude toward 18th-century music). Hire a good-but-not-bossy conductor (Antonio Pappano).

Rope in a moderately accomplished but no-contest second-bannana (mezzo-soprano Marianna Pizzolato), who won’t be able to match on glamour, but could use the exposure. No, I’d not heard her, or of her, either. Seems she’s a Rossini specialist of sorts — Tancredi and all that. Italian, obviously. Pretty, but in a non-threatening sort of way. In other words, she’s not Cecilia Bartoli.

I’m not saying that’s a bad thing (and I’ll get to Cece’s version later). Meanwhile we’re supposed to be having a tribute to Pergolesi. Since the Stabat Mater is just over 37 minutes, then we have some disc to fill. How about that barn-burner, the Sinfonia from, Li prodigi della divina grazia nella conversione e morte di San Gugliemo duca d’Aquitania, a “sacred drama.”  What’s a sacred drama? Five minutes of generic music, that’s what. It took me as long to type the title.

But on the Sinfonia’s provenance (and most every other point) the liner notes are mum. Instead of boring details, such as background on the pieces (or the mezzo, other than her report that she “worked hard”), or a translation of the texts, we get 3 pages of discourse on Anna Anna Anna: her thing for Baden-Baden (Tolstoy liked it, too), where this was recorded; how this disc documents her risky venture to entertain the summer folk taking the waters by singing something other than the Russian stuff; how she and Antonio met while working on Manon. And so on. Don’t forget some campy pictures of the singers, garbed in funereal black (boy, that says summer music festival), striking a few earnest, devotional poses in front of stained-glass windows (somewhere in Baden? Who knows.)

Ah. Now I get it. They recorded the dress rehearsal at the Festpielhaus, spent a few months engineering out any bulges, and are putting it on the shelf for CD buyers, some of whom might have heard Anna’s rendition of this on tour (and according to her web site, most of these performances, alas, have been canceled).

In addition to the 5-minute instrumental fillers, we’ve got a couple of vocal fillers, some secular cantate, one per cantante. Ms Pizzolato is mostly effective in “Questo é il piano.” Without a score, I’m really just guessing about the finer points. The basic timbre of her voice is lovely, but not really distinctive. The color is consistent from top to bottom, but I felt like she was holding back a lot of the time, which seems a very 1980’s approach to the Baroque. Her florid signing is agile and generally accurate. She doesn’t always aspirate her coloratura, so when she did I’m guessing it’s for effect (effective? well…)

Ornamentation on the da capo sections seemed idiomatic but safe, like what you’d hear on a graduate recital. Shifts in musical mood and tempo were mostly well contained and small scale. I wanted more variety, drama, and texture: risk. When Pizzolato let things bloom, the sound was interesting, particularly up top. Down low she doesn’t have much to offer. Despite being listed as a contralto, she’s not (and she made me wish I was hearing Ewa Podles — and watching her Pez-dispenser method of vocal production).

I better start talking about Anna. Back in the liner notes, Warwick Thompson (a self-confessed Parterrian: hi, Warwick!) let us know that “The preparations for the concert were happy but nerve-racking” and that it was “a journey for all.” Also, we’re told that Netrebko’s solo turn (“Nel chiuso centro,” one of those Orfeo things, I gather) is something she sang once, early on in her career.

Unfortunately, I think I could hear that fact in her rendition. Maybe it’s just my problem, but I have a bear of a time un-doing the mannerisms of pieces I learned as a young singer, and it can be sort of startling to hear largely eradicated tics sneaking back in. In her case, the short-comings were most pronounced in the talkier recitative sections: the diction is rather laissez-faire (while, as one would expect, Ms Pizzolato’s Italian’s very good). I won’t presume to know Netrebko’s thoughts, but the singing’s got that phonetic sound: I don’t hear words, and I certainly don’t hear ideas or specific drama, really.

She fared better on the arias. First, it’s “Euridice, e dove sei?” though even here, I was denied even some of the more rudimentary gestures (softer on repeated phrases — we’re talking basics). Cadences sometimes got a ritardando that would make Furtwangler blush. She pulled it all together in the rapid-fire final aria, “O d’Euridice n’andro fastoso.” In spite of the limitations, though, I am drawn to her glamorous and distinctive instrument, and not really out of familiarity: I’ve not listened to her very much. But her best singing on this disc made me want to hear her in Anna Bolena.

Okay, let’s get to the heart of the matter. Stabat Mater is well represented on recordings, which range from prior diva vehicles to a long list of more recent, historically informed versions. I’m not sure we really needed another diva-ish version, and if we’re getting it anyway, there should be a good reason. Is there? In the final analysis, I don’t think so. The up-sides: these women generally achieved a pleasing balance and blend. At some of the bigger moments, it was nice to hear them let it rip. Their vocal production is often full-bodied, operatic. I like that (or rather, I don’t think that is a barrier to a valid reading on this piece).

The down-sides: Diction was sometimes pretty dodgy. Final “s” sounds were often way too long (“gladiuSSSSS”), while ending “t’s” were in the wrong spot (tongue too far back–too dry). Any conductor’s got a tough assignment with this work, as the music is often at odds with the text, and as some of the most recent original-instrument versions demonstrate, there are aspects of the piece that are plain weird (in a good way).

I’m not really persuaded by Pappano’s overall structure. I usually like things fleet, but here, in rushing things along, I think he missed several opportunities to show off these women to their best advantage (and this music, frankly, doesn’t begin to challenge the orchestra). The crux of the story is the eighth line: she saw her Son dying, forsaken, and he yielded up His spirit. I think it was just too fast. Same for the next number. If the tempo markings in the Breitkopf and Ricordi scores (I know, I know) are to be believed, this “Andantino” was not a slightly sped-up walk, but more like a skip.

Speaking of diva projects, I had to drag out my one recording of the work: Dutoit leading a Montreal chamber group with June Anderson and Cecilia Bartoli. Granted, the sound is, by current standards, hopelessly unfashionable. But I prefer Dutoit’s overall sense of the work (not to mention those ladies’ grand manner). It is generally slower, with the sadness prevailing; grand; musically and dramatically coherent in a way that this version just never seemed to find.

In addition to the missed opportunities in the booklet, for something brand-spanking new, the CD loads into iTunes in an annoyingly basic way: every track’s “Artist” is “Netrebko, Pizzolato, Pappano.” Lazy. No artwork (not even the cover photo, with Anna looking like a severe Milanese widow: black v-neck dress, natural-look make-up, no jewelry but lots of leg). I’ll hand it to Netrebko for venturing out of her comfort zone, though I think it’s too bad that she didn’t involve a more suitable conductor. Partially because this gave me a chance to audition the alternatives, I doubt that I’ll be listening to this rendition again.