Giuseppe Verdi: Opera Choruses
Choir and Orchestra of the National Academy of Saint Cecilia / Carlo Rizzi
Warner Classics Apex 0927 40836 2 [61:09]
This reissue from Warner’s budget Apex line—recorded in Rome during September 1992—delivers considerably more than its superbudget price suggests. Carlo Rizzi, working with the Santa Cecilia forces, has assembled a cunningly chosen program of Verdian choral moments that trace the composer’s evolution from the raw nationalism of the 1840s through the sophisticated chiaroscuro of Otello. The famous “Va, pensiero” from Nabucco opens proceedings.
Rizzi’s approach here is revealing—he doesn’t sentimentalize, doesn’t linger. The chorus sings with that slightly nasal, forward-placed Italian sound that Americans sometimes find disconcerting but which actually suits this music’s fervor. There’s genuine longing in the diminuendo on “natio,” and the final pages fade with uncommon delicacy.
What strikes me is Rizzi’s control of dynamic shading; he’s mapped the entire arc before the first note sounds. The second Nabucco excerpt — “Gli arredi festivi,” shows the chorus in supplicant mode—divided first by gender, then reunited. The male voices possess admirable tonal contrasts, the tenors bright without shrillness, and when the women enter after that harp introduction they bring a different color entirely.
This is ensemble singing of real accomplishment. From Macbeth we get both the witches’ scene and “Patria oppressa.” The former presents; an old problem: how do you make Verdi’s melodically seductive witches sound appropriately malevolent? Rizzi takes it at a brisk clip, perhaps too brisk—the effect is more exuberant than sinister.
But “Patria oppressa” compensates magnificently. The orchestral introduction, with its sharp brass punctuations and thin string writing, establishes the desolation perfectly. When the chorus enters pianissimo — building gradually through Verdi’s carefully calibrated dynamic scheme, the effect is genuinely moving.
Here Rizzi’s control of long-breathed phrases pays dividends. The I Lombardi selections—”O Signore, dal tetto natio” and “Gerusalem!”—reveal fascinating musical cross-references with Nabucco. Verdi was mining similar emotional territory, and — well — Rizzi seems alive to these connections.
The male voices again distinguish themselves; there’s a particular bass-baritone in the ensemble whose dark-hued contributions catch the ear repeatedly. I wish I could be more enthusiastic about the “Anvil Chorus” from Il trovatore. The tempo is simply too fast for clarity of diction, and those famous rhythmic hammer-blows lose their emphatic weight when rushed.
This feels like a miscalculation. The Don Carlo excerpt juxtaposes celebrating crowds with somber monks preparing an auto-da-fé—one of Verdi’s most potent dramatic contrasts. Rizzi handles the scene’s grand scale convincingly, though I’ve heard recordings with more terrifying monks.
The Santa Cecilia chorus sounds perhaps too civilized here, too cultivated for the Inquisition. “Fuoco di gioia!” from Otello catches fire properly. The Cypriots’ celebration crackles with genuine excitement, the different choral sections blending and separating with precision.
You can almost hear the rosin dust settling on the strings.
You can indeed visualize flames leaping and — well — subsiding. This is late Verdi, sophisticated in its orchestration and harmonic language, and Rizzi navigates the complexities with assurance. The Aida triumph scene concludes the program.
Here Rizzi resists bombast—the famous march doesn’t assault the ear with outsized brass. Instead, he maintains clarity and proportion, letting the music’s inherent grandeur speak without exaggeration. The ballet music flows naturally into the final choral peroration, and the effect is genuinely celebratory rather than merely loud.
The Santa Cecilia Band plays with idiomatic understanding throughout. The winds, particularly, deserve mention for their supple phrasing and accurate intonation. Release quality is superb—spacious, well-balanced — with natural perspective between orchestra and chorus.
One caveat: the booklet notes, while informative about Verdi’s nationalist sympathies and the political context of these excerpts, offer only basic musical commentary. But at this price, such complaints seem churlish. This disc won’t replace the legendary Karajan or Giulini recordings for collectors seeking ultimate refinement.
What it offers instead is honest, idiomatic, thoroughly musical Verdi at an absurdly reasonable price. Rizzi conducts with intelligence and taste, the Santa Cecilia forces respond with commitment and skill, and the repertoire selection is both popular and dramatically coherent. For anyone building a Verdi collection or simply wanting a single disc of rousing choral music, this represents exceptional value.
Strongly recommended.
