Madama Butterfly in Lucca

Recently, I’ve been staying with my family near Lucca, in Tuscany. Lucca is a gorgeous medieval city and its two greatest achievements are having maintained an intact city wall for 500 years and being the birthplace of Puccini. With this in mind, the Comune di Lucca in collaboration with the University of Western Ontario organised performances of operas on the city walls and while I was in Lucca I was able to go to one of these – Madama Butterfly (there was no performance of Tosca, which I thought was surely a missed opportunity if you have a wall to perform operas on).

The set was laid out on a small platform on one of the bastions found at each corner of the walls, next to the row of trees at the edge of the outer wall itself. It consisted of three white screens at the back of the platform and various large white egg-like things on the floor (these were used as essentially every prop that was needed, from the flowers they decorate the house with to Butterfly’s child). There wasn’t very much seating, so most people sat on the grass or on the stone ruins surrounding the seating. Dusk had begun by the time it started and by the end it was completely dark.


Cecily Bednarek as Butterfly

This performance was an edited version of the opera and as I didn’t know Madama Butterfly very well to start off with, I couldn’t always tell exactly what was going on or which bits had been cut out. The idea was to show the events of the opera as either a series of flashbacks or events imagined or dreamt by Butterfly. I was mostly able to follow what was happening – the plot essentially went as you would expect, but occasionally cutting back to Butterfly and Suzuki waiting for Pinkerton to come back. They cut out some of the duet between Butterfly and Pinkerton and, as there were only four singers, any parts for anyone other than Butterfly, Pinkerton, Suzuki or Sharpless. The only part of this editing that I found really confusing was right at the end, when Butterfly didn’t kill herself and just carried on singing. I wasn’t able to follow what she was saying and so had no idea what was going on. It ended with her tearing open one of the screens at the back and walking off that way. While the extra bit was perfectly nice to listen to, I still have no idea where it came from or what it meant.

The singers all performed well – Cecily Bednarek as Butterfly sounded a little unsure of herself to begin with but once she had got past “Un bel di”, which she sang beautifully, her voice became more confident, as did her acting. Leanne Kaufman (Suzuki), Kyle Melton (Pinkerton) and Mattia Campetti (Sharpless) all sang confidently as well, but it was Butterfly’s show, as in this edited version she had by far the most singing and was on stage all the way through. The Humming Chorus was the only part of the singing that I really didn’t like: it doesn’t work with only four people singing it. To be honest, it would probably have been better if they’d just got the audience to sing along.

It was a really interesting and enjoyable version of an opera that I haven’t really listened to much and because of the setting and its history, it was a unique experience.

Tosca at WNO

Last night, my mum and I went to Cardiff to see Puccini’s Tosca performed by WNO. Tosca  has been one of my favourite operas for a long time but I’ve never actually seen it live. We had seats in the front row of the stalls and directly in the middle which in my opinion was the best place to be sitting in the entire hall.

The main thing that struck me about this performance was the set and costume design and the lighting. It was all done in a ‘realistic’ style, which can sometimes be boring, but I think with Tosca, it’s the best way to do it. The set for Act 1 was very reminiscent of Italian-style churches, but still managed to appear closed and oppressive, like the atmosphere of the opera. For Act 2, the set was the same shape, a kind of cross-section of the room, so that the effect of a kind of terrifying beauty was the same. Act 3, though, had a more open set, apart from the angel that looms over the stage, sword pointing downwards as though to spear the people below. For the dawn scene, the lighting, which was excellent throughout the performance, really came into its own. The sky behind the battlements faded from blue to gold beautifully and gave a wonderfully dramatic backdrop to the equally dramatic plot.

The final moments of Act 3

Mary Elizabeth WIlliams sang the title role well and managed to make her character likeable in Acts 1 and 3. Her Vissi d’arte was moving but a bit too harsh and jagged in places. The acting was OK but rather clichéd, especially in Act 2, where there was lots of agonised pacing and leaning her head on the wall. Gwyn Hughes Jones, who seems to be WNO’s default tenor (I’ve seen him so far as Don Jose, Don Ottavio, Rodolfo, Manrico and now Cavaradossi), was, as ever, a good but not outstanding singer. However, his acting was not particularly impressive either and there was no chemistry between him and WIlliams. Claudio Otelli, as Scarpia, was an excellent actor and made a gorgeously chilling Scarpia, particularly during the Te Deum at the end of Act 1.

I really enjoyed this performance but mostly for the production, lighting and directing. I hope to see the production again but perhaps with a different cast (a different tenor for once, maybe!)

Weekly Video #42

On Wednesday, this concert with Anna Netrebko and Dmitri Hvorostovsky happened in Moscow and because most of us tragically couldn’t make it to Moscow that evening, some kind person has put it on YouTube and I would recommend you watch it.

Met Announces New Season

The Met have announced the operas which will be performed in their new 2013/14 season. You can see the online brochure by clicking on the penguin.

As I can’t go to the Met itself due to the small inconvenience that is the Atlantic Ocean, the only productions I am allowed to get excited about are the ones being shown Live in HD. These are:

  • Eugene Onegin on October 5th
  • The Nose on October 26th
  • Tosca on November 9th
  • Falstaff on December 14th
  • Rusalka on February 8th
  • Prince Igor on March 1st
  • Werther on March 15th
  • La Bohème on April 5th
  • Così fan tutte on April 26th
  • La Cenerentola on May 10th

My thoughts on this:

Eugene Onegin:  I will definitely go to see unless the world ends or something. Having been totally amazed by the ROH cinema broadcast last week, I don’t think I can miss this. I mean, it’s Tchaikovsky and it’s got Netrebko and Kwiecien in it, how bad can it be? Also, I like the look of this new production. It seems to be mainly focused on snow, which is fine by me, as Snow is essentially a one-word summary of What I Know About Russia.

The Nose: I don’t really know this opera well enough to know if this is worthwhile. I think personally that I’ll pass, but I’d be interested to know what others think.

Tosca: I hate the Met’s production of this. And it has Alagna in it. Enough said.

Falstaff: I don’t know if I’ll go to this or not. I quite like this opera, without being fanatical about it. I’m not sure what to expect from the new production. Just generally – I don’t know. At all.

Rusalka: Probably almost definitely. I love Dvorák but I don’t really know this opera, so I really want to see this. Also I just want need to see Renee.

Prince Igor: I really want to go and see this. It sounds like an interesting and possibly under-performed opera. The production also looks very good and I would like to hear Abdrazakov sing because he is one of the singers I hear about fairly regularly, but have never listened to.

Werther: Kaufmann+Garanca+Massenet= OMG I TOTALLY HAVE TO GO AND SEE THIS!!!

La Bohème: I could go if I have nothing else to do, but I probably shan’t bother. It’s the same (admittedly excellent) Zeffirelli production that seems to be perfectly capable of being brought out for performances every other year until its first appearance is no longer in living memory. This performance features Vittorio Grigolo and Anita Hartig.

Così fan tutte: I personally think I should go to this because I really don’t know this opera at all (I mean, I have a vague understanding of the plot and I can recognise Soave sia il vento, but that’s about it). Isabel Leonard, Danielle de Niese, Matthew Polenzani and Susanna Phillips are all involved, so I think that makes it worthwhile, at the very least.

La Cenerentola: I have something to admit here, which is that I am not exactly a huge fan of Rossini. That is to say, I like much of the music, but some of it I find very dull and if the opera does not have a good cast and an entertaining production, it can become very tedious very quickly. In this case though, it’s Cenerentola – by all accounts one of his better operas – and starring Joyce Didonato, Juan Diego Flórez and Luca Pisaroni, no less, so this should be Rossini at his best.

Looking through the rest of the season, which I won’t be able to see, but at least hear on the radio, there are a few things worth noting:

This is the overall lineup by composer:

  • Tchaikovsky-1,
  • Mozart-2 (including the cut-down-and-sung-in-English version of The Magic Flute), 
  • Shostakovitch-1,
  • Bellini-3,
  • Britten-1,
  • Muhly-1,
  • Puccini-3,
  • R. Strauss-3,
  • Verdi-2,
  • J. Strauss-1,  
  • Donizetti-1,
  • Dvorak-1,
  • Borodin-1,
  • Massenet-1,
  • Berg-1,
  • Giordano-1,
  • Rossini-1,
  • Various Baroque Composers-1 (The (Return of the) Enchanted Island)
  • and, noticeably, Wagner-0. 

Not being personally a Bellini fan, I think that having three of his operas is a bit much, especially since it appears to be pushing out Verdi and Wagner. I think it would be more justifiable if they had a couple of really good Bellini singers (e.g. if we were back in the days of Sutherland and Callas, it would make a lot more sense). Maybe they think they’ve been overloading a bit on the Donizetti and they’re trying to balance it out a bit without taking away the bel canto operas altogether. In which case, partial success. What I don’t understand, though, is if they want to do so much Bellini, why not schedule at least one of them to be shown in HD, rather than repeating the same old Puccini productions? I suppose they want to ensure they make more profit by showing ‘safe’ operas, but for those of us who are interested in hearing some different repertoire, this is irritating. Anyway, if some people want to go to an opera for the first time, Così, Tosca,  Bohème and Cenerentola are all good choices, they don’t need to show all of them. I’m pretty sure that Tosca and Bohème could both be left off and neither operatic newcomers nor more regular viewers would miss them (and this is coming from the mouth keyboard of a lifelong Puccini fanatic who counts both of those operas among her favourites).

The total absence of Wagner is both puzzling and understandable. Yes, they have scheduled a lot of Wagner recently and no doubt spent huge amounts of money and effort on it but there are a lot of very good Wagner singers around at the moment whom we want to hear. Surely they could have just squeezed one little Dutchman in there somewhere?

In the HD shows, it is noticeable that there is a lot of Russian and Czech opera going on. Not that I’m complaining about this at all.

Overall, good season, could be better and I’m definitely looking forward to several of those HDs and radio broadcasts.

Weekly Video #23

Today, I would like to introduce you to Opera Imaginaire. It’s a series of animations based around bits of opera. There’s 11 in total – from: La Traviata



Le Nozze di Figaro

Madama Butterfly

Les Pêcheurs de Perles

Die Zauberflöte

La Cenerentola





Here’s the one from Traviata, in a playlist with the others (this one is my favourite though, it’s so cute and there are profiteroles dancing to Verdi. LOVE!)

*Ok, whatever, it’s decided to start with Pagliacci. There is probably some techy way to work out how to get it to start from the Traviata video, but I can’t be bothered right now*

Questa e la maledizione di Tosca!

Everyone knows that in the world of theatre, Shakespeare’s Macbeth is a cursed play, only to be referred to as ‘The Scottish Play’. And the operatic equivalent, according to popular belief, is Puccini’s “shabby little shocker”, Tosca. Now, we all know about Tosca’s Kiss. But what about Tosca’s curse? Where has this legend come from? Well, it has come from the many disasters that have happened in productions of Tosca over the years. It’s not hard to see why it’s this opera that gets the blame for being dangerous. What with the gunpowder used for the fake execution and the (hopefully) blunt knife used to stab Scarpia and the candles placed around his body (an obvious fire hazard just waiting to happen) and the offstage screaming and singing and the onstage scuffles and the infamous leap from the battlements at the end, Tosca is, from beginning to end, an operatic danger zone. Let’s have a look at some of the many things which have gone wrong in productions of Tosca since it’s premiere 112 years ago.

  • Let’s start with that most famous of all Tosca disasters; the trampoline, as recounted by Hugh Vickers in his book Great Operatic Disasters.
    “Whereas most such disasters depend on some element of misunderstanding and incompetence among the stage management, this catastrophe is – delightfully- due entire to ill will, in this case between the stage staff and the soprano. With diabolical cunning they permitted her, after several stormy rehearsals, to complete her first performance without mishap until the very last moment, when Tosca throws herself off the battlements of the Castel Sant’Angelo. What normally happens is that on her cry of “Scarpia, avanti a Dio!”, she hurls herself off and lands on a matress four feet below (who but Callas has ever looked totally convincing at that moment? Her outstretched hands haunt the memory). But in this case it was not Callas but a large young American who landed not on a mattress but – perish the thought – on a trampoline. It is said that she came up fifteen times before the curtain fell, sometimes upside down and then the right way up, now laughing in delirious glee, now screaming with rage.” Now that is truly the operatic way to get even with a bossy diva! Although this story has become buried in popular legend now, it varies hugely depending who tells it. Some say it was an older or more famous diva and some say that she came up 3 or 4 times instead of 15, but at heart it is still one of the treasured tales of the opera world.
  • Less of a disaster and more of an interesting anecdote, there is a tradition of Tosca singing her great aria Vissi d’arte lying on the floor. This can be dated precisely back to the great soprano Maria Jeritza. One night on stage, she tripped and fell while fighting Scarpia. Rather than climb awkwardly back up again to sing, she chose to remain on the floor for the duration of the aria. The director liked this effect and asked her to continue it for the rest of the performances. It eventually became her trademark and was copied by many other sopranos.
  • As Maria Callas tried to wrestle off Tito Gobbi’s Scarpia in a performance in 1965,  her long black wig caught fire from one of the candelabras, much to the horror of the audience. Luckily the quick-thinking Gobbi improvised a fight move on the spot and snuffled out the flame without missing a beat and Callas escaped without injury. They both continued singing and acting as though nothing had happened, but as she stabbed him afterwards, she whispered ‘Grazie, Tito!’ under her breath to him. This story became famous after Gobbi wrote about it in his memoirs.
  • Also in 1965, the tenor Gianni Raimondi suffered burns to his face in a performance in Rome after one of the fake execution bullets was overcharged with gunpowder.
  • Another Maria Jeritza tale – Antonio Scotti, playing Scarpia was once actually hurt when Jeritza stabbed him with the prop dagger. Needless to say, he acted the death scene extremely convincingly and with some very loud exclamations of pain.
  • Live fire on the stage was something that Russian soprano Galina Vishnevskaya was not used to when she started performing in the West in the 1970s. During a Tosca run at the Vienna State Opera Vishnevskaya’s insistence on using her own wig instead of the fire-retarded one furnished by the theater backfired when her tress was ignited by one of the candle. The diva kept on singing, evidently not realizing what had happened, and was shocked when the freshly murdered Scarpia jumped back into life and lunged at her along with the Cavaradossi (none other than one Placido Domingo), who wasn’t even supposed to be in the scene to begin with. The two colleagues successfully put the fire out as the curtain fell and Vishnevskaya suffered only minor burns to her scalp. (Apparently afterwards, in Act 3, Domingo ‘looked as though he might cry’ as he sang O dolci mani to her burnt hands)
  • Eva Marton took an elbow blow to the jaw when fighting Juan Pons as Scarpia at the Met in 1986. However, she soldiered on and managed to finish with a dislocated jaw (although another version of this story says it was her shoulder that was dislocated and she tried to fix it mid-performance by slamming it against the wall)
  • She (Eva Marton) had more Tosca trouble in her final performance of the role at the Met in 1999. She landed on the feather mattress after her suicide jump and it exploded around her. Luckily, nothing was seen by the audience, until she came out for her curtain call – covered in feathers from head to foot.
  • Renata Tebaldi, performing in Tokyo, famously walked offstage, straight past the confused soldiers, rather than jump (Montserrat Caballe once did the same thing, but rather more discreetly)
  • At the Minnesota Opera in St. Paul in 1993 soprano Elisabeth Knighton Printy had a real fright she realized upon jumping off the stage platform that she wasn’t in the right spot where the mattress was placed on the ground to cushion her fall. Thirty feet straight down later the star of the show had knocked herself out of action for the rest of the run with two broken leg and many bruises.
  • Gina Cigna, in Buenos Aires, got away lighter, She took her curtain call bleeding from the forehead after the stage hands forgot to put down a mattress for her
  • During the live broadcast of Tosca, nei tempi, nei luoghi, Placido Domingo fell down the ladder on the painters’ scaffold in Act 1 and crashed into the wall of the ‘Attavanti’ Chapel.
  • An unnamed soprano once broke her ankles during a rehearsal for Welsh National Opera. It ended up in court because the stage director had insisted on a long jump to inadeqate padding, and since the soprano cancelled her performances, the company refused to pay her.
  • In a performance in Italy in the 1990s, the guns did not go off properly and Cavaradossi had to pretend he had been shot by invisible bullets. The ever-sympathetic Italian newspapers celebrated this with the headline ‘Cavaradossi dies of a heart attack
  • This is a brilliant story from the New Orleans Opera in 1978. The physical production had been borrowed from Dallas and did not match the scale of the New Orleans venue. In fact, the Castel Sant’Angelo set was so out of proportion with the dimensions of the stage that the parapet actually touched the background scrim upon which the dawn over Rome was suggested. There was hardly enough room to squeeze a pin cushion back there, much less a mattress
    or gym pads. The production team “solved” this problem by attaching a tiny wooden platform directly under the section of the parapet where Tosca jumps to her death. The Tosca was instructed to simulate a leap, then crouch down on the platform–presumably out of sight of the audience.Unfortunately, someone came up with the bright idea of having a stagehand posted on the platform to assist Tosca with this tricky bit of staging. The poor guy was required to kneel and stoop for the entire act because there was no other access point to the platform besides the parapet itself.  The Tosca was an American mediocrity named Roberta Palmer, whose 15 minutes of fame were about to come to an absurd end. A replacement for the originally scheduled Galina Vishnevskaya, Palmer was not blessed with stage smarts and visibly motioned to the stagehand to get ready for the jump.Suddenly, a flannel-shirted torso rose up and extended his arms to catch the exiting diva. Palmer stepped off the parapet into his waiting clutches and the two quickly ducked down on their tiny perch.By this point, the audience in the highest section of the balcony was in stitches. But nothing could have prepared us for the hilarity that followed.Mistakenly assuming that the curtain had fallen, Palmer and friend *stood up* in plain view of the entire audience. As howls of laughter greeted them, soprano and stagehand darted back beneath the border of the parapet. By that point, however, all semblance of convincing stage illusion had been destroyed.
  • Famous baritone Tito Gobbi, a very original Scarpia, recalled a prima, or premiere, with Maria Callas, in which he had to improvise to save the diva in Act II. While he was on the floor, having just been killed, he realised that Callas was walking around the stage unable to find her way out. She had severe myopia and, while she could wear glasses during rehearsal, her eyes would not tolerate contact lenses. Gobbi tried to discreetly point out the exit, but started laughing so intensely that both his laughing and his pointing were seen by the audience. The morning after, the newspapers raved about his memorable portrayal of Scarpia’s death throes. In other performances, he was able to whisper directions to her so that she could make a satisfactory exit.
  • Gobbi also paid tribute to the ferocity of Callas’ acting in this role, noting that he was often afraid during their performances that she really would kill him in Act II. She very nearly did so, when the knife she was using failed to retract. Gobbi was cut, but not severely hurt, and with a cry of “My God!” went right on with his death scene.
  • Tenor Fabio Armiliato had a bad accident during performance as Cavaradossi at the Macerata Festival in 1995 opposite Raina Kabaivanska. One of the guns used in the execution scene was loaded with a bullet that wasn’t quite blank enough and the tenor was hit in the leg with its fragments. Determined to not let the incident faze him, Armiliato turned up to perform in the subsequent performance with the aid of crutches, which promptly broke under him along with his other leg, effectively knocking him out of the rest of the performances. Here is the video footage:
  • There is also a popular story of how a Cavaradossi (opposite Lina Cavalieri’s Tosca) was actually killed by the fake bullets. This is (we hope) almost certainly not true
  • My personal favourite (also taken from Great Operatic Disasters): A group of young and inexperienced college students were used to play the firing squad of Act 3. They were given last minute instructions to “slow march in, wait until the officer lowers his sword and then shoot. And then exit with the principals” (Principals being the standard American stage instruction for minor characters or the leader of a group etc.)  The audience, therefore, saw the following: a group of soldiers marched onto the stage but then stopped dead in its tracks at the sight of two people, not one, as they had assumed – a man and a woman, both looking extremely alarmed. When they pointed their hesitant rifles at the man, he at first drew himself up, looking noble and resigned, but then started giving inexplicable conspiratorial glances at the woman . . . they pointed their rifles at her, but she made a series of violently negative gestures –  but then what else would she do if she was about to be shot? Should they, perhaps, shoot them both? But then they would hardly be standing so far apart – anyway, the opera was called Tosca, it was evidently tragic, the enormous woman on stage was presumably Tosca herself, solemn funereal music was playing, the officer was raising his sword . . .
    Thus it happened. By a perfectly sensible process of logical deduction they shot Tosca instead of Cavaradossi. To their amazement, they then saw the man, some twenty yards away, fall lifeless to the ground, while the person they had shot rushed over to him, crying (we must remember that this was in a vivid American translation) “Come on baby, get up, we gotta go!” What could they do? They had shot one of the principals – though admittedly the wrong one – and their next instruction was “Exit with the principals.”. In disbelief, they watched as, first, Spoletta and his minions burst onto the stage and Tosca – could it be true? – took up her position on top of the battlements. She jumped and there was only one thing for it – as the curtain slowly descended the whole firing squad threw themselves after her . . .
  • And finally, just to round things off:

So, I hope you enjoyed this little (ish) round up of all the Tosca disasters and mess ups I could find.

Franco Corelli – Il Principe di Tenori

You may recall that a bit ago, I posted about my latest visit to the record shop. And one of the CDs I bought was (for only £5.99!) The Perfect (Italian) Tenor, a collection of Italian arias sung by Franco Corelli.

This is the track list:

Giuseppe VERDI(1813 – 1901)
1.Se quel guerrier io fossi … Celeste Aida
2.Merce diletti amici … Come rugiada al cespite
I Lombardi
3.La mia letizia infondere
La forza del destino
4.La vita inferno … O tu che seno in angeli
Il trovatore
5.Deserto sulla terra
6.Ah, si ben mio … Di quella pira
Umberto GIORDANO(1867 – 1948)
Andrea Chenier
7.Improvviso: Un di all’azzuro spazio
8.Come un bel di di maggio
9.Amor ti vieta
10.Mia madre, la mia vecchia madre … Vedi io piango
Pietro MASCAGNI(1863 – 1945)
Cavalleria rusticana
11.Mamma quell vino e generoso
12.Se Franz dicesse il vero
Francesco CILEA(1866 – 1950)
Adriana Lecouvreur
13.La dolcissima effige
Giacomo PUCCINI(1858 – 1924)
La fanciulla del West
14.Una parola sola! … Or son sei mesi
Madama Butterfly
15.Addio fiorito asil
16.E lucevan le stelle
17.Non piangere Liù
18.Nessun dorma

Well, what can I say? It’s not perfect, but it’s as close to perfection as anyone could hope for it to be. It’s (obviously) an old recording, but Corelli’s voice manages to shine through almost all the sound quality problems. I say almost all, because the Nessun dorma at the end has the classic this-was-recorded-underwater sound to it, which distorts his high notes a bit.

My picks for the best tracks of this album are as follows:

Celeste Aida – This rendition has the simultaneous bravado and tenderness that perfectly captures the emotions of this song. Comparing this to Roberto Alagna’s version certainly clears up the mystery of why the loggionisti booed Alagna when he tried to sing it at La Scala.

Deserto sulla terra – Perfect if you need to convert somebody to Corellism, but only have a couple of minutes to do it in.

Di quella pira – This is the only recording of this aria that I’ve heard that can equal Pavarotti’s. Again, I love how his tone changes from romantic to heroic in a matter of seconds. The sound’s fine on this one, apart from some strange whizzing noises in the background.

Come un bel di di maggio – In my opinion, this is the best track in the album. Heartbreakingly soft and painfully strong by turns, this is my favourite of all recordings of this aria.

Mamma, quel vino e generoso – A gorgeous piece of verismo opera, which suits Corelli’s voice perfectly. The stifled sobs work better in this aria than in some of the others.

Or son sei mesi – I’m not really a fan of La Fanciulla del West but his singing brings the rather flat emotions completely to life again and breathes his magic into the music.

E lucevan le stelle – One of my favourite arias, one of my favourite tenors, perfection. Need I say more?

Non piangere Liu – Again, you can hear Calaf’s emotional struggle reflected in his voice. (In case you’re wondering, there is no input from Liu or Timur in this rendition)

So all in all, I would seriously recommend this recording to anyone who likes this kind of repertoire and/or wants to discover one of the greatest tenors who ever lived. You won’t be disappointed.

New Purchases

So, earlier this morning I went down to my (amazing, wonderful, brilliant) well-stocked local record shop with £20. I am now back at home with £5.02 and two new CDs. The rest of my morning has been spent in the delightful anticipation of listening to these CDs, but first I will just tell you what they are.


Very excited to have this recording, because Franco Corelli is one of my all-time FAV 🙂 URITE tenors. Apart from the arias listed on the cover, it also has arias from Ernani, I Lombardi, La Forza del Destino, Andrea Chenier, Cavalleria Rusticana, Adriana Lecouvreur and Madama Butterfly. Obviously the sound quality won’t be perfect because the recordings were made in the ’50s but who cares, it’s still Corelli.

And also:

Now, I know that a lot of people don’t like La G (aka Draculette) because of her cancellations and her temperament and the various stories about her diva-ishness. I don’t know how many of these are true but all rumours have at least 1% truth and the cancellations are certainly no lie. But whatever people may think, you can’t deny that this woman has THE VOICE. She can SING. Which, when you think about it, is quite a good quality for a singer to have (*cough cough* pop music industry). So, leaving aside the arguments about her attendance record, this CD has arias from Butterfly, Tosca, Boheme, La Fanciulla del West, Manon Lescaut, Edgar (that’s the one that is never performed), her trademark Rondine, Suor Angelica, Gianni Schicchi, Le Villi (also rarely performed) and Turandot. Quite predictable stuff, but hopefully the singing will live up to the name.