Eleonora Buratto’s is a name I’ve seen in passing in the last few years, including on here, but only recently, with the new release of DG’s latest Tosca recording, did I actually hear her for the first time, with the set’s “Vissi d’arte:”

The first impression is of an artist obviously in touch with the aria’s emotions, but what is also immediately apparent is that Buratto is doing her utmost to audibly darken and weighten the tone; the slightly hooty attacks, and the throaty strokes push the sound and pitches askew. I hear an overly ambitious aim at a dramatic sound she does not possess by nature.

Turning to YouTube, I went back through the years to hear Buratto’s past work. The most revealing of matters is a performance, dating back 10 years, of her singing Amelia’s aria from Simon Boccanegra, “Come in quest’ora bruna,” with Riccardo Muti accompanying her at the piano:

Here the soprano displays a lovely, limpid tone, not altogether settled, but unforced, flowing with relatively untroubled ease.

In going through all her documented work, I find the lighter the role, the more congenial the voice. When the heavier roles are taken on, and/or the sound is pushed for size, the exertion is evident. I’m reminded of Mirella Freni in terms of the weightier repertory she took on; the more she pushed to be a lirico spinto, the less optimal the results.

Buratto’s repertoire consists of Musetta, Nanetta, Adina, Norina, Mimi, Lìu, Micaëla, Countess Almaviva, Donna Anna, Luisa Miller, Mozart’s Elettra, Verdi’s Elvira, Elisabetta, and Desdemona, Fiordiligi, Anna Bolena, Maria Stuarda, Antonia, Suor Angelica, Madama Butterfly, and now, Tosca. Slated is Roberto Devereux in June, in Valencia, completing her Tudor trilogy. (There’s unfortunately no documentation of her Bolena and Stuarda.)

In the recital under review, entitled Indomita and released by Pentatone, Buratto offers a selection of some of the most demanding repertoire in bel canto and early Verdi – and perhaps unwittingly inviting comparisons with her illustrious predecessors in all of the scenes. (It really can’t be helped unless one has aural amnesia.)

Hers is, essentially, the right voice by nature for these pieces, particularly the strong middle and lower regions. The upper third would be right if she did not push and throttle the tone with such relentless pressure; most of the notes from A above the staff on up are raw and strained. I received a body-quaking jolt at 3:40 in the intro to the Aroldo scene:

The rest of that scene? One need merely go to Caballé’s superior rendition on her Verdi Rarities album to hear what’s missing in Buratto’s ungainly, uneasy vocalism. The same case is in respect to the double finale of Lucrezia Borgia. The tricky, fractured figurations in “M’odi, ah m’odi, io non t’imploro,” are rather sketchy, and the cascading runs of “Era desso il figlio mio” are bumpy. And what’s more, Buratto has no trill to speak of; it’s just a pressurized flutter. Another issue here, though, is that because the soprano is so focused on getting through the demands of the music that she has not yet learned to wed the text to Donizetti’s uniquely quirky vocal stylings: Lucrezia here is desperate, wracked with despair, and her words are through the composer’s fertile, keen musico-dramatic imagination.

The same problems mar the mad scene from Anna Bolena. The beautiful, ethereal prelude to “Piangete voi?” is signifying of Anna’s state of delirium, in her own dream-like inner realm. But Buratto comes in with little sense of this — the words are almost perfunctory in their declamation, indeed lacking shade and nuance, with scant dynamic variation (and the high C on ‘infiorato’ is wiry):

The following “Al dolce guidami” starts off well enough, but the voice does not float where it must and the cascading, upward runs on “del nostro amor” are devoid of fluidity and grace. The deficiency of real trills remains a liability in this piece. “Cielo, a miei lunghi spasimi,” is lovely, though. The “Coppia iniqua” is the most successful portion of the scene: Buratto’s emphatic, energetic delivery works marvelously here, and the lower register is good and pungent. Even the tense upper notes abet the characterization. Again no trills, but a pushed flutter suffices because the attempt is evident.

As a totality, the most successful scene is that of Lucrezia’s from I due foscari, “No, mi lasciate…Tu al cui sguardo onnipossente…La clemenza? s’aggiunge lo scherno!” Buratto here, particularly in the central cavatina, is poised, eloquent, and suave in her handling of the line:

The most challenging, and therefore problematic, piece in this recital is the Imogene’s mad scene from Il pirata. It is problematic in general, because few sopranos can fully manage its considerable demands. I’ve in recent months gone through many disappointing accounts, and as far as I’m concerned, Callas reigns supreme in her 1958 Mad Scenesrecording. In particular, the cavatina “Col sorriso d’innocenza” is a masterclass of bel canto singing and phrasing; the rhythmical buoyancy of the line, the peerless tonal dynamism, the deeply musical sense of the Bellinian phrase – I think it’s her greatest achievement on record and a “Desert Island Disc.”

As with the Bolena scene, Buratto is most successful here with the concluding cabaletta, “Oh Sole! ti vela” because she has the middle vocal base in the range, exhibiting real strength in the lower register, and giving a forceful delivery – the aggressive manner of her vocalism again works because this cabaletta is one of unhinged ferocity.

However, elsewhere here the soprano’s work is gravely disappointing. Bellini has set the tone of the scene with a splendidly atmospheric prelude, suggesting Imogene’s delirious, dark state of mind. The recitative, “Oh! s’io potessi dissipar le nubi” is the character “talking” to herself, an inward monologue in a dream-like reverie of Imogene’s scattered imaginings.

Buratto doesn’t seem to have listened to the prelude because her entry into the recitative is maddeningly careless, almost fiercely defiant in the intoning of the words, unnuanced – it’s downright insensitive and outward in expression:

To fully illustrate what I mean, I include here as a contrasting example Edita Gruberova’s 1993 rendition from a concert for her “Mad Scenes” CD (yes, I’m really going there). Indulge me here, t’imploro. 

Gruberova’s voice is not as suitable as Buratto’s by disposition for Imogene. In particular, the Italian soprano has the full, solid middle and lower register Gruberova did not.

However, one merely has to listen to Gruberova’s entry to hear an immediate difference: here is musical and textual sensitivity, a beautifully poised tonal sweetness, inward, ruminative, characterful phrasing, a sense of the scene’s psychological gravity. Throughout, there’s a suave “dropping in” of key phrases, meaningfully intoned; there’s nuance and shading going on here:

At the end of this recitative is “Deh! tu innocente, tu per me l’implora.” It is a classic Bellinian phrase, one needing a lithe elegance of delivery; it should be deeply moving, but Buratto at 4:03 pushes it out loudly, bumpily, unfeelingly. Gruberova at 8:08 is simply magical, breathtaking in sheer loveliness.

Buratto’s handling of the cavatina “Col sorriso d’innocenza” exposes her lack of command in a slow melody. There’s plain evidence that she knows what she’s aiming to convey, but her schooling and technique prevents her from fulfilling the precise demands this piece requires. There’s noise, some pressurized gurgling around the center of the line, overemphasis of words, and the filigree areas, particularly in phrases like “Digli, ah! digli che respiri,” are clunky and uneasy. The top As on “genitor” and “tanto” are flung out raucously:

Gruberova, starting at 9:40, is lacking at the beginning a bit in a firm middle core, but the line, especially as it commences, is suave, graceful, and polished, with an acute sense of its architecture, the sensitivity of its emotional-musical structure implicit, skilled. The top As are supremely elegant, heeding Bellini’s dynamic markings, and the closing phrases are poignantly intoned.

Gruberova’s “Oh Sole! ti vela,” is lively, rhythmically propulsive, full-voiced – but Buratto has the advantage of a stronger tonal center:

I may be impertinent, even presumptuous, to suggest that Buratto needs more technical work and further study, but I find this recital very uneven; her ambitions exceed that of her capabilities at this point. I believe a higher level of excellence is within her grasp, but I have serious reservations about how hard she’s driving her basically lyrical tone to sound more dramatic.

Sesto Quadrini, the conductor leading the Orchestra and Chorus of the Teatro Carlo Felice di Genova, ably supports his soprano and extracts fine work from his orchestra. The CD packaging has notes, including one short, sincere one from the soprano, and she’s shown in several sultry photos. Texts and translations are provided. Buratto has taken Marina Rebeka’s example in self-produced recordings and is listed as one of the executive producers.