Freni; Cappuccilli, Carreras, Chiaurov, Van Dam, Foiani; La Scala, Abbado. DG 2709-071 (3).

It is good news that complete operas are once again being recorded by La Scala in Milan, especially when they are of the quality of Macbeth and this new Simon Boccanegro. By no coincidence, both are led by Claudio Abbado, a symphony man with some of the theater in his blood, so there is no slighting of the symphonic underbody of Verdi's music. While many a well routined pit conductor can lead an idiomatic Boccanegra, few can raise it to its full, cohesive stature as Abbado does. And the singers, showing the power of Giorgio Strehler's stage concept, step forth with fully drawn characters.

There are a few traditions that one could still live without. When Pietro is supposed to sing along with the plebeians in the prologue, his lines are omitted; this sort of thing is done in many operas to spare the soloists from duplicating chorus music and also, perhaps, to permit separate scheduling of recording sessions with the chorus by itself. Then there is the ending of Fiesco's "Il lacerate spirito": if you want to hear it the way Verdi wrote, with even eighth notes all marked staccato under a slur, you'll have to get the RCA recording, led by Gavazzeni. Here Nicolai Ghiaurov makes the customary distortion, as though Verdi meant a vestigial cadenza. Some incongruity results, too, from Piero Cappuccilli's failure to observe those same slurred staccatos in the triplets of his duet with Mirella Freni as Amelia (she sings them right; he sings them legato).

Much as one might wish for the conductor to put his foot down in such cases, they are few, and where Abbado does make his presence felt is where it counts most--in the atmospheric- seascape of the Act I introduction, for instance, or the clenched-fist impact of the council chamber scene. After that mammoth fresco, Abbado zooms in on Cappuccilli's big solo scene with an unerring sense of proportion.

Miss Freni and José Carreras, her Gabriele, sing out a bit more than is really necessary on records, but they do it with such ardor, flow and inflection that there is no sense of fatigue. The Boccanegra of Cappuccilli is eloquent in the manner of a statesman who has learned to temper, measure and time his utterances for best effect--that is, with awesome firmness where needed but without hectoring. And Ghiaurov cuts the figure of a worthy adversary in Fiesco, a man whose suffering explains his later conduct.

Perhaps again because of Abbado's influence, the fallen angel Paolo Albiani looms-as large as-he must to explain the behind-the-scenes motivation of the opera's action. José Van Dam's covertly threatening tone, his accents of ruined would-be dignity, of power beyond his reach, raise this man above the level of comprimario to which star Boccanegras often hope to relegate him. And his sidekick, the miserable Pietro, steps forth like a medieval gargoyle in Giovanni Foiani's deft portrayal.

The usual cut at the end of the trio is not taken, though a traditional change is made to spare Amelia from singing an unaccompanied solo trill at the close of the big ensemble that caps the council chamber scene. Occasionally the orchestra rises like a threatening tide, nearly drowning out Carreras at the height of his aria, but for the most part the balances are good in spite of Abbado's unbridled romanticism, which works wanders for a score often considered monochromatic and somber.

Copyright © 1977 The Metropolitan Opera Guild, Inc.