Radvanovsky Scales the Verdian Heights

We who heard soprano Sondra Radvanovsky’s belated 2009 San Francisco Opera debut in the opening production of Il trovatore thrilled at the discovery of a genuine Verdi soprano. Radvanovsky’s subsequent romp at Opera in the Park confirmed that she has not only the chops but also the personality and verve sufficient to fill the largest stage.

Now, her first solo recital helps clarify her position in the pantheon of great Verdi sopranos. Recorded by Delos in May 2008 in a Moscow studio, backed by San Francisco–born Constantine Orbelian and his Philharmonia of Russia, Radvanovsky holds forth in 10 drama-filled arias. Although a few from the early operas Il corsaro and I vespri siciliani are not encountered frequently, they are counterbalanced by the usual suspects from Il trovatore, Un ballo in maschera, La forza del destino, Ernani, and Aïda. Hence, those of us who were raised on Leontyne Price’s Aïda and Forza (her recording of the latter with Domingo is cited as one of Radvanovsky’s inspirations), or remember the performances of Callas, Caballé, and Tebaldi, can sense what she’s trying to do, and how close she gets.

Did I give myself away there? Yes, Radvanovsky has an innately dramatic voice that seems tailor-made for Verdi. She also has a large range, ascending to what my trusty pitch pipe declares to be a perfect high E in alt at the conclusion of the “Bolero” from The Sicilian Vespers.

What she lacks, however, is a way of personalizing each aria so you feel the heart of the character she is portraying. The emotions are too generalized, one aria bleeding into another, the effect ultimately dulling. It’s not as though there are not some wonderful moments, the highs in “O patria mia” and the aforementioned high E among them. But as the laser disengages shortly after her final blazing note, little else lodges in the memory.

Part of the fault lies with the recording. The artificial reverb around Radvanovsky’s voice is so excessive that even notes sounded softly echo like the biggest. The studio-induced lack of a cutting edge on softer tones, combined with a compressed dynamic range that robs the recital of anything that feels like true piano, makes the presentation quickly grow wearisome. As much as we want to be touched by a character’s pain, it’s hard to feel involved when the electronics place Radvanovsky in such an artificially distant envelope.

There’s also the matter of technique. Although I recall a trill in San Francisco, the trills on the disc are far less than spectacular, and not held long before they merge with the vibrato. That’s fine; many of the great Verdians lacked a good trill. But they also didn’t attempt arias such as “Ernani, involami” or the aforementioned “Bolero” unless their bel canto technique was sufficiently secure to allow for fleetness. Here, both seem a bit labored, especially given Orbelian’s plodding accompaniment.

It would be one thing if Radvanovsky could float an exquisite note now and then, or do something to take the breath away. But while her breath control on some passages is exceptional, our breath remains steady.