This is a significant document, not only of Karajan’s early, post-World War II work but of his four distinguished soloists as well. Moreover, it is superior to some of his subsequent performances (both studio and live) of this towering score that have appeared on CD. But, according to listings provided by arkivmusic.com, this is the second release of this performance by Audite, the first one, bearing the same numbering, having been issued in 1970. The sound is considerably better than that in many live products to have emerged from Salzburg at the time: the background is silent, with the soloists well forward. But the chorus and orchestra seem cramped, almost 8H-like. Moreover, the loudest passages are often shrill and may, on wide-range equipment, lacerate the ears, especially in some instances that tend to shatter. Considerable improvement, however, can be obtained with a flexible 10-band equalizer. The soloists are clear and impressive, and Karajan does not tend to drag some sections as he did in later efforts. This is certainly not a performance that should be one’s primary choice, but it is well worth investigating as a supplementary acquisition for those interested in the singers or the conductor. The set is tagged Volume1, but it is not clear whether this numbering refers to a series devoted to the conductor or to the Salzburg Festival. A welcome virtue of the production is Audite’s 23 bands, enabling easy access to each of the work’s sections.

When Ferenc Fricsay died of cancer in early 1963, the world had not yet realized what a magnificent musician it had lost. As one of the most successful conductors of his age, he had made a meteoric rise to the top in a very short time. Although his recording career was relatively short, most of his recordings are still highly appreciated by today’s public. Was it his unstoppable perfectionism in the way he worked with his orchestra and soloists? Or was it rather his modernism and freshness that made his work so valuable?

Audite is now releasing a series of radio recordings made during his period as principle conductor of the Berlin Radio Symphony Orchestra (formerly known as the Radio in the American Sector Orchestra). This particular recording of Verdi’s Rigoletto was made during the 1950 season—it’s one of the rare occasions where we can hear Fricsay conduct Italian repertoire, or rather Italian music, for the entire opera is sung in German. In those days, opera houses were accustomed to stage their productions entirely in their own mother tongue. Since today we’re not used to this kind of practice, it takes effort to set all modern conventions aside and to go back in time.

The first thing that struck me was the high level of singing. We know that Fricsay always took great care that his cast always gave him trust and professionalism. The singers he assembled for the occasion do an excellent job. In addition, the RIAS Chamber Choir sings with transparency and accuracy. The orchestral playing is strikingly precise, although the woodwinds suffer from intonation problems. The relatively poor sound quality is a bit of a setback here; it sounds dry and far away. Fricsay leads the orchestra and singers with fire; phrases are constructed in a logical way, without losing the attention for a second.

Maria Callas’s recording on EMI remains my personal favorite for Rigoletto. She performed a great Gilda, and together with a superb Giuseppe di Stefano as the Duke and Tito Gobbi as Rigoletto a trio for the ages was formed. Tulio Serafin’s fiery conducting was another reason why this remains a legendary recording.

Audite probably won’t break selling records with this release, but if you don’t mind hearing German when it’s supposed to be Italian, give this one a listen.

Audite has performed an invaluable service in unearthing and making available these magnificent radio broadcast performances of the legendary Norwegian dramatic soprano Kirsten Flagstad. Despite being only a few weeks shy of her 57th birthday, with complete retirement from the stage only a year away, Flagstad’s voice here is in miraculously intact condition. Better yet, the seeming coolness of temperament that could make some of her performances sound less than fully engaged is largely absent; the excerpts from Tristan and the Immolation Scene are rendered with noticeably more overt passion than in the contemporary studio recordings with Furtwängler, and the latter has vastly superior sound to the extraordinary March 1952 live performance with Bruno Walter and the New York Philharmonic. Only the brief Recognition Scene from Elektra seems unsuited to her interpretive talents, though given that she did not record the role (was it even in her repertoire?) this rendition is still to be treasured for its sheer beauty of sound. The two sets of Lieder demonstrate the ease with which Flagstad could scale down her voice to far more intimacy and project the text with beguiling tone, long-breathed legato, clear diction, and interpretive nuance. The booklet notes, which discuss Flagstad’s voice and later vocal estate in considerable detail, speculate that Flagstad omitted the first of the Four Last Songs (of which she gave the world premiere just two years before under Furtwängler) from these performances because its high tessitura was too taxing for her by this time. Whatever the reason, the omission is much to be lamented; had this been a complete cycle, it would have been an easy and immediate candidate for one of the two or three top recordings of the work ever made, as her command of the work is that of sovereign majesty.

Equally noteworthy is the first-rate conducting of Georges Sebastian. The defunct LYS label once released a two-CD set of his pre-World War II studio recordings of Wagner orchestral excerpts, which I’ve not heard, along with the Wesendonck songs offered here, but otherwise he is represented on disc primarily by several live opera performances from the early 1950s (Werther, Iphigénie en Tauride, Mignon, Thaïs, Bluebeard’s Castle), and occasional recordings of arias in various vocal anthologies. Based on these performances, that scanty discography is our loss, for this is riveting Wagner conducting on a par with such immortal names as Furtwängler, Walter, Muck, and Coates; I found myself utterly engrossed in these performances from the first notes of the act I Prelude onward. These renditions possess an extraordinary combination of clarity, instrumental color, dynamic flow, and tension, despite some occasional lapses in ensemble and intonation that betray a second-tier orchestra.

The recorded sound of the reprocessed original master tapes—a significant improvement on the previous Melodram and Urania releases (I have not heard the Simax issue of the Recognition Scene)—is also remarkable, equaling or surpassing that of many studio recordings of the era for clarity, frequency range, warmth, and absence of hiss or other background noise. The accompanying booklet is exemplary. Had all four of the Strauss songs been performed, this would immediately have secured a niche on my 2011 Want List. Even with that heartbreaking omission, it still carries my highest recommendation. If you treasure Flagstad, if you love great singing, do not pass this release by.

The Bartoli/Flórez combination in La sonnambula makes for a truly great Bellini recording. You’ll want to keep your Callas (especially the live one with Bernstein and Valletti) for her special insights, but this disc defines the term bel canto. The Audite set brings us the complete post-war Furtwängler broadcasts from RIAS (Radio in the American Sector) with the Berlin Philharmonic, available for the first time in authorized transfers taken directly from the masters. It is the most important Furtwängler package in years. The disc of songs by the Armenian priest and composer Gomidas (alternatively rendered as Komitas) was my great discovery of the year. This music is ethereally beautiful, and is wonderfully sung by Isabel Bayrakdarian. Polyptyque is one of the most beautiful pieces by Frank Martin I’ve ever encountered. It is based on a set of small panels by Duccio representing episodes of the Passion. The work contains some of Martin’s most lyrically beautiful music, along with contrasting episodes with a wide variety of tensions and, to use Martin’s own word, frictions. The performance shimmers, and the rest of the disc is on the same exalted level. And finally, if you had the slightest doubt about the talents of young Gustavo Dudamel, the DG Tchaikovsky disc should dispel them. The Francesca da Rimini performance is equaled only, on disc, by Markevitch’s classic DG recording from a half century ago, and the Fifth Symphony belongs on any list of the great recordings of that oft-recorded warhorse. It is as if Dudamel and his young Venezuelans are composing the music as they go along, so fresh and committed is the music-making.

The budget-priced 12-disc Audite release of the complete surviving Furtwängler/Berlin Philharmonic RIAS recordings has to top my list of five personal picks for the last year. Made by the iconic conductor between his 1947 de-Nazification and his death in 1954, most of these recordings have been available before, and the qualities of the performances much discussed by devotees and critics. The difference: these were sourced from the original 30-ips studio master tapes. Given the age of the material and the challenges of recording in immediate post-war Germany, the quality is remarkable. The skillful and restrained restorations have resulted in brighter, more transparent, properly pitched (often faster) transfers with a much wider dynamic range than earlier incarnations; in many cases, a distinctly new experience. For an English podcast demo of what was accomplished, a complete track listing, and supporting material, most alas in German, visit http://www.audite.de/sc.php?cd=21403.

Few will argue that this Madama Butterfly supersedes earlier classic accounts. It is, however, their equal and a superb new studio recording—with the studio virtues of optimized casting, sound, and attention to detail—in a time when new opera recordings are almost invariably live and usually video. Pappano keeps the proceedings spontaneous. Gheorghiu, with subtle shading and telling detail, creates a touching dramatic arc from child to betrayed woman with dignity and the expected vocal allure. Kaufmann, darker and less Italianate than most Pinkertons, leans toward cad, but provides plenty of vocal charm to explain the attraction. The supporting cast is equally fine and the Roman orchestra and chorus perform with precision and utter conviction. Tired of the compromises of many live recordings, and distinctly weary of goofy post-modern stagings, I hope more audio-only studio efforts like this are forthcoming.

For those wishing to buy a second choral recording this year (Łukazewski’s Via crucis on Hyperion is my primary recommendation), the Accentus Fauré Requiem should be it. I have yet to hear a sub-par recording by this marvelous chorus, but here is something special: an ideal meeting of performers and repertoire. The choral sound is refined and beautifully blended, with a softened French pronunciation of the Latin text. Laurence Equilbey’s interpretation is anything but soft. Out of the warm texture of the chamber orchestra she draws all of the remarkable drama of the work—the brilliant brass and percussion writing especially being given its due—with no romantic bloat or eviscerating sweetness. The soloists are tender, pure, and cantorial as required. The charming Cantique de Jean Racine is equally fine. Short time at 41 minutes, but one doesn’t buy perfection by the pound.

There were two recordings of star performers in unexpected repertoire on my short list. Villazón’s (may his recovery be swift and complete) Vivaldi on DG is great fun, but too stylistically challenged for a Want List recommendation. This recording of famous Bach solo cantatas offers no such impediments. Dessay, mistress of stratospheric coloratura and bel canto, may be less distinct in articulation than some German and English singers who have assayed this repertoire—she is reminiscent of Pierrette Alarie in that—but these performances are special for her heartfelt, caressing interpretations and for Haïm’s alert, stylish accompaniments.

Finally, I passed over two superb Mahler symphony recordings (Fischer’s Fourth on Channel and Gergiev’s Eighth on LSO Live) to welcome Petrenko’s dazzling first installment in a promised budget Shostakovich symphony cycle. In this recording of the cinematic 11th, a challenging work to pull off, Petrenko reveals a structural integrity frequently concealed in lesser interpretations while maintaining most of the excitement of the hell-bent-for-leather approach. This may have been recorded by more virtuosic orchestras—but not by much, and there may be more transparent recordings—this is merely excellent, but there are none I know that give this much pleasure overall. I look forward to the remaining releases with great anticipation.

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