For me, one of the greatest recordings is the Von Karajan Il trovatore. You have four incredible singers in their top form.
I take such comfort in the assumption that someone or something will save us from injustice and the lust for power.
It’s such a joyous score, full of Italian warmth and humanity. Verdi’s late-stage, evergreen score is a constant source of joy.
I have been utterly fascinated by the wildly intriguing choices of “comfort operas” these past few days. For me, Così fan tutte is my absolute first choice.
This is not exactly a comfort “opera” as it is from Handel’s late oratorio Theodora which is sometimes staged as an opera.
Die ägyptische Helena isn’t even an opera I love so much as a whole.
I was first exposed to Hänsel und Gretel as a child, likely via The Metropolitan Opera’s 1982 PBS telecast.
My comfort opera after all these years remains Puccini’s Madama Butterfly, even with its sociologically problematical presentation of Japanese culture.
Beckmesser’s serenade never fails to amuse, particularly when sung by Thomas Allen in this ROH recording from 1997 under the late Haitink with Tomlinson, Gustafson, Winbergh, and Lippert.
The color, power, and character are all there in this recording.
Parsifal puts Monsieur to sleep when he most needs it. He has probably listened to more versions than actually exist.
This may be a rather trite choice, but I genuinely believe that Rossini comedies make the ultimate comfort operas.
This sequence of two arias is perfectly judged to calm the jangled or melancholic spirit.
This performance truly “never fails to lift my mood.”
Der Rosenkavalier is a three-hour meditation on nostalgia. What could be better to bathe in?
‘Comfort opera.’ Hmm… I had to give this one some thought.
The opera is life affirming, but also recognizes that life comes to an end.
My comfort opera is Elektra. Yes, you read correctly, Elektra.
The old Nilsson/Corelli radio checks from the 1960s are a reminder that what this opera needs are VOICES.
Other queens have been richer of voice or more dramatically compelling, but none I have ever heard succeeds in sounding something other than human.
Conchita Supervia (1895-1936), Spanish mezzo, never fails to lift my spirits, in practically everything she sang.
Suck it, Joseph Kerman: Puccini’s “Shabby Little Shocker” has outlived you and will probably bury us all.
Wozzeck. Yes, really.
From an early age I knew I should have been French.
Tell us: Filth or dementia?
Hasten thee to feed another quarter of conversation for The Talk of the Town!
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