Of Tarnhelms & Texans

As Sting once sang, "When the world is running down/You make the best of what's still around." That seems to also be the operative mantra of Delos' surprise new recording of Richard Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen. While there may not be a crying need for yet another Ring cycle on CD, the newcomer has certain rationales ... and disincentives. Since myriad Rings already exist on CD, I shall assume that the interested reader has at least one recording already that is in top-flight sound. Georg Solti's Sixties all-star Zyklus with the Vienna Philharmonic (Decca) remans an obvious choice, as does Joseph Keilberth's 1955 Bayreuth Festival traversal (Testament), recorded in lifelike stereo and with casting continuity that surpasses Solti's. For a third choice, in excellent monaural sound, I'd nominate Clemens Krauss' 1953 broadcast from Bayreuth (Orfeo), a remarkable, one-shot effort that captures the "New Bayreuth" ensemble at the zenith of its powers.

The central selling points of the Delos set are the Dallas Symphony Orchestra and its music director, Fabio Luisi. The DSO may not be a dyed-in-the-wool Wagner orchestra like James Levine's Metropolitans (DG) or Solti's Viennese. However, its playing on these discs is highly idiomatic. There is a degree of power, expression and precise detail to these performances that belies the DSO's status as a platform orchestra rather than a seasoned pit band. Their crystalline execution is captured by Delos in credible concert-hall sonics, with an equitable voice/orchestra balance.

Inexperience occasionally shows through—Sieglinde and Siegmund's entrance in Act II of Die Walküre is an ugly scramble and the brass are not quite together at the start of the Siegfried Act III interlude—and tiny live-performance imprecisions are manifest ... but not nearly as much as one might expect. Felicities include a real steerhorn (but not for the Call to the Vassals in Gotterdammerung), rough and aptly nasty. Luisi splits his violins left and right, also placing his cellos and double basses of the left. All of this pays dividends in the resultant clarity lent to Wagner's marvelous, intricate string writing.

Individual instrumental kudos are in order, too. The solo hornist is uncredited but splendid. Ditto the two bass trumpeters, who are a pillar of strength, as is the bass clarinetist. But concertmaster Alexander Kent's violin solos are emotionally reticent. The Dallas Symphony Chorus impresses with verve and clarity rather than (as is so often the case in Gotterdammerung) sheer mass.

Fabio Luisi: Ring-master

It is difficult to generalize about Luisi's leadership. His tempi are largely of the golden mean, sometimes inclining to slowishness. Act I of Gotterdammerung logs in at a Franz Konwitschny-like 124 minutes, but without Konwitschny's tensile strength. To take one other core sample, Act I of Die Walküre may look slow at Luisi's 64 minutes compared to Christian Thielemann's lickety-split 59 minutes (Vienna/DG) ... but not next to Levine's 68 minutes, Sir Mark Elder's 71 minutes (Hallé) or Sir Reginald Goodall's world-beating 73 minutes (Chandos). But while Luisi's pacing puts him in the mainstream, he does sometimes let continuity lapse. For instance ...

Wagner-DAS RHEINGOLD: Deniz Uzun, Laura Wilde, Tamara Mumford; Stefan Margita, Michael Laurenz, Mark Delavan, Tomas Tomasson, Liang Li, Andrew Harris/Dallas Symphony Orchestra/Fabio Luisi, cond. (recorded 5/1 & 4 and 10/13/24)

... Luisi simply can't seem to engage with Wagner's Vorabend, as Das Rheingold's one-act span is styled. In his slowish reading of the prelude, certain constancies emerge, particularly the scrupulous observance of dynamic markings. But overall, an elusive quality of lift is lacking. There isn't much sense of an underlying dramatic impulse: Luisi often tends to plod. The nadir is the murder of Fasolt, completely ineffectual.

Delos has an excellent Woglinde in Valentina Farcas and today's leading Floßhilde (Renée Tatum), but the matronly Wellgunde sabotages euphony. Bringing back the unloved Bayreuth Bark, Tomas Tomasson is a Sprechstimme Alberich, his voice quavering badly on sustained notes. His relentlessly leathery sound gives way to genuine singing tone at the invocation of the Tarnhelm, but mostly what's on offer is calloused ranting. One needn't invoke the great Gustav Neidlinger (Alberich for Solti, Keilberth, Krauss and many others) or even Herbert von Karajan's Zoltan Kélémen (DG). Tomasson comes up well short of Rolf Kühne on the otherwise lifeless Hans Swarowsky set (Profil). His Nibelheim brother, Michael Laurenz, doesn't overtly caricature Mime but he can't resist the temptation to snarl either.

Delavan: An externalized Wotan

Matters are better in Valhalla. Age 65 at the time of these performances, Mark Delavan's Wotan defies the ravages of time. F-sharp is still his to easily command, as is the oaken tone that first impressed me in an 1995 Lucia di Lammermoor at New York City Opera. Interpretively, he is rather monolithic, despite rising to the climactic challenge of "Abendlich strahlt." Delavan's is not an agonized Wotan, as epitomized by the great Hans Hotter (Solti, Keilberth, Krauss, etc.). It's closer to George London's imperious version—and skies above the rantings and yowlings of Sir John Tomlinson (Barenboim's Wotan for Teldec), who pawed uncouthly at the role for many years. No, Delavan's is an imperial, impeccably sung king of the gods, one notably short of introspection.

Delavan has a superior consort in newcomer Deniz Uzun's Fricka. I know nothing about her other than that if you still miss Tatiana Troyanos, you will find many similar, fine qualities in Uzun—along with a Troyanos-style whoop or two. Uzun's firm voice suggests a young, attractive partner for Wotan and her delivery is always purposeful. Thankfully, she not only essays both Frickas but also both Waltrautes, of which more anon.

Eschewing traditional Sprechgesang, Stefan Margita's Loge is delivered in a light, smiling manner, with a flicker in the tone that suggests Loge's fiery essence. Margita's sound can pulse violently under pressure but he sagely maneuvers around most such perils. Freia is loose-toned but brother Froh is firm and baritonal, whilst sibling Donner is black-browed, summoning a storm with authority. Erda's calm is undermined by Tamara Mumford's pervasive, rattly vibrato, some lovely phrasing notwithstanding. Liang Li's Fasolt verges on disaster, lurching from note to note and suffering from wobbly underpinnings. But nasty brother Andrew Harris means business, his subfusc sound absolutely what Fafner needs.

Wagner-DIE WALKÜRE: Lise Lindstrom, Sara Jakubiak, Deniz Uzun; Christopher Ventris, Mark Delavan, Stephen Milling/Dallas Symphony Orchestra/Fabio Luisi, cond. (Recorded May 2 & 5 and October 15, 2024)

A sea change comes over Luisi, as the intense Act I prelude immediately makes clear. He's now a knowing, supple accompanist, if sometimes over-inclined to brood. For instance, the vocal difficulties (see below) of the Todesverkündigung encounter would be helped by a faster tempo from the conductor. Conversely, he paces problematic Act III well, with no danger of anticlimax, but hurries through the lovely pages of Wotan putting Brünnhilde to sleep, as though afraid they won't hold interest. Then again, the Magic Fire Music is surprisingly moving in Luisi's hands.

Deutsche Oper Berlin star Sara Jakubiak comes to Sieglinde by way of Zandonai's Francesca da Rimini and Korngold's Das Wunder der Heliane. She phrases sensitively and her tart voice has substance. She makes the words tell and her impassioned take on Sieglinde's Act II mad scene clearly rouses Luisi, too. Refulgently distraught in Act III, she exits in an "O herstes Wunder" blaze of tone.

She is not so fortunate in her sibling lover. Christopher Ventris is a veteran Siegmund who sounds it. A tremulous, understated Wolsung, his tones flap in the breeze. He's negotiating survival, with much of the needed expression defaulting to the orchestra. Jakubiak sings in phrases, Ventris in notes. He and Lise Lindstrom's Brünnhilde quaver at each other in the Todesverkündigung and ones is grateful when it ends. (As indicated, Luisi could be helpful here, but isn't.)

Lise Lindstrom as Brünnhilde (Photo: Raftermen/Atlanta Opera)

California-born Lindstrom does not fall into that distinguished lineage of Golden State Brünnhildes that includes Janis Martin, Jeannine Altmeyer and Luana DeVol. She's got the top Cs for the Battlecry but no trill, there's a pervasive beat in held notes, and a sibilant whistle is omnipresent. Lindstrom's tonal presence tapers out to almost nothing at the bottom of the staff. She's also prone to a Hildegard Behrens (Levine/DG or Sawallisch/EMI, deleted) type of shudder, one where the voice seems it will shake itself to pieces over the simplest utterance. In Act III, "Fort denn eile" is soggy when resolve is needed and the confessional "War es so schmaehlich" catches Lindstrom at her weakest. At least she holds up her side of the long, ensuing argument with Wotan, despite her vocal debility.

Delavan's paternal god is again a formidable tonal presence. His ostensible anguish at "O heilige Schmach!" is restrained, yet his subsequent introversion in the big monologue is the more effective for the extroversion that has preceded it. Still, we are ultimately not moved by Wotan's quandary, which we ought to be. He dispatches Hunding (Stephen Milling) with chilling rage and berates his Valkyrie brood without losing dignity. But in a crude attempt at "expression," Delavan shamefully shrieks "Und das ich him in Stücken schlug!", suggesting superficial imitation of others' bad habits. He collects himself for the farewell to favorite daughter Brünnhilde—magnificently intoned, if so generalized as to be more godlike than paternal—although he summons the Magic Fire with unquestionable authority.

Uzun returns as Fricka, marshaling her arguments with firm, quiet dignity, along with gorgeous and untaxed tonal resources. Milling is an outstanding Hunding, well beyond the usual consonant-chewing clichés. Sample the quiet astonishment of "Wie gleich er dem Weibe," as Hunding is struck by the Wolsung twins' resemblance ... or the legitimate anger of "Ich weiß ein wildes Geschlecht," as he rounds on Siegmund. The Valkyrie octet is marred by a squally Gerhilde and hoarse Roßweiße, but the eight combine voices to thrilling affect.

A couple of gripes should be noted at this point. Despite some nice, big fermatas nearby, Delos has opted to split Act II awkwardly by dint of a cross-fade in mid-phrase (the Fate motif, no less!). Also, I could do very well without the post-act ovations, which are not only lengthy but often juvenile in their football-match enthusiasm.

Wagner-SIEGFRIED: Lise Lindstrom, Valentina Farcas, Tamara Mumford; Daniel Johansson, Michael Laurenz, Mark Delavan, Tomas Tomasson, Andrew Harris/Dallas Symphony Orchestra/Fabio Luisi, cond. (Recorded October 5 & 17, 2024)

There's no avoiding the sine qua non for success in this opera and that's a listenable, plausible Siegfried. Fortunately, Swedish tenor Daniel Johansson is more that. His is a dark and muscular Heldentenor voice, one that is unfazed by such difficulties of the role as the strenuous Forging Scene. He's capable of lyrical beauty, too, as at "Selige Ode," and carries the final duet when, by rights, he should be running on fumes.

If Johansson is sometimes short on personality, Laurenz's Mime has enough for them both. Bitter and characterful, Laurenz largely eschews parlando, praise be. But his tone is still so crabbed that it comes as a stark shock to put on Dennis Petersen (for Ascher Fisch/Seattle Opera) and hear Mime sung 'legit' as it were. Laurenz is infectiously gleeful when trying to poison Siegfried in Act II, even throwing in a not-inapt touch of Dr. Strangelove.

Displaying more 'face' than previously in this Ring, Delavan is a firm and commanding Wanderer. His rhythmic alacrity and chiseled diction launch Act III imposingly (aided by some tooth-rattling thunderclaps). Grand in his farewell to Erda, Delavan exits his marathon role without a hint of fatigue. Mumford's Erda, between shuddery tone and exaggerated chest voice, sounds querulous.

Tomasson is more inclined to sing in Siegfried but his tone is sadly worn from crude misuse, straining at the break. Conversely, Harris is a black, cavernous dragon, even without the speaking trumpet Wagner requested for his baleful ejaculations. Luisi is most at his element in Siegfried, particularly when stirring up mystery and foreboding in the first two acts. "Ewig war ich" in Act III is tenderly swaddled by the conductor and Lindstrom returns the favor with carefully threaded delivery.

Unfortunately, Luisi cannot make Lindstrom go away. "Heil dir, Sonne" shatters the ears and this Brünnhilde's vibrato pulses violently. When unforced, Lindstrom's basic tone quality is sweet but hopelessly compromised by faulty vocal function. Johansson sounds untaxed while his bride goes to pieces whenever pressure is applied. She takes the high C at the end of the opera—and you'll wish she hadn't.

Wagner-GOTTERDAMMERUNG: Lise Lindstrom, Kathryn Henry, Deniz Uzun; Daniel Johansson, Roman Trekel, Stephen Milling, Tomas Tomasson/Dallas Symphony Chorus & Orchestra/Fabio Luisi, cond. (Recorded October 8 & 20, 2024)

Faced with the culmination of the cycle, Luisi lapses back into disengagement. The opening Norn scene has a feeling of carelessness, devoid of communicative urgency, which it absolutely must have if the audience is to be gripped. Nor does the Dawn Duet ever take off, perhaps because Luisi must keep the DSO down to aid Lindstrom. Temporarily freed of singers, Luisi tucks into the Rhine Journey with gusto but even that fails to flow and the conductor limps into Act I, Scene 1, where he is no help either.

And help is needed, given the weak vocal hand Luisi has been dealt. Roman Trekel is a worn-sounding, wobbly Gunther, simply agonizing when presenting the captured Brünnhilde to his court and reduced to ranting by the end. For that matter, Kathryn Henry is another too-hapless Gutrune, an equivocal role in which anything but an A-list voice is cruelly exposed. Most comfortable at the bottom of the stave, Henry is probably a levitated mezzo, at war with her voice's natural compass. Tomasson barks his way through his final Alberich; you should feel something for the dispossessed Nibelung and don't.

Altogether to the good is Uzun's Waltraute, sung in bright, compact tone (secure deep into the chest) and full of purpose. With Luisi's connivance, Gotterdammerung briefly starts to happen. The Rhinemaidens, singing much more in trio in this opera, are given a sclerotic color by Wellgunde's voice, even though Tatum steadily anchors the ensemble. (Side note: I played Ambrogio to Tatum's Rosina in a Las Vegas Barber of Seville, a number of years ago.)

Henry's wide vibrato compromises her pitch as the Third Norn, although she's good with the text. Throw in Mumford's squally First Norn and it's up to Jennifer Johnson Cano's Second Norn, rich and plummy, to carry the opening scene of the Prologue.

Another capital performance is Milling's Hagen, a grave and subtle intriguer, easily dominating the action. There is some peculiar hoarseness to his upper register in Act I, but the frog must have been expelled from Milling's throat during intermission because he's fine the rest of the way. At opposite ends of the vocal spectrum, Milling offers some excellent pianissimo singing in his colloquy with Alberich, then impresses with a full-throated summoning of the vassals. (Their stretta is marked "very lively" but Luisi yet again lollygags.) Hagen's "Meineid raecht ich!" is the customary bellow, alas, an eleventh-hour lapse from impeccable singing by Milling.

Sounding every bit as hale on his deathbed as in life, Johansson's Siegfried betrays a certain lack of imagination. This Siegfried doesn't expire: He just stops singing. Is it churlish to complain? Johnasson has almost all the vocal requisites (no high C, however), is assured, expressively apt and able to light a fire under Luisi. But when impersonating Gunther, this Siegfried sounds exactly like ... Siegfried. True, perhaps only Siegfried Jerusalem (for Bernard Haitink on EMI) was able to pull off that gambit without electronic assistance. But young-sounding Johansson does almost everything right. Nowadays that's cause for gratitude.

Lindstrom: Coup de grace

Even so, the coup de grace to this set is delivered by Lindstrom, upon whose inadequacy the enterprise founders. Yes, she can grit out a high C at the end of the Dawn Duet. But her tone pulses violently, even in repose, and she sounds raddled by the demands of Act II, with the Immolation Scene still in the distance. There, she's just getting by, the power being supplied by Luisi. "Ruhe, ruhe, du Gott" practically fades out altogether and Lindstrom's once-reliable top notes are now splintery. The effort is so strident that one longs for the agony to be over. Luisi gets the last word, of course, with the lengthy coda, but the motivic reminiscences fail to land the cumulative and emotional impact that they can have in an exceptional performance.

IN SUM: "Exceptional" this is not. With notable exceptions (Fricka, Sieglinde, Waltraute, Hunding, Fafner, Hagen and of course our Siegfried), this is not a bracing testament to the state of Wagner singing today. True, Mark Delavan's Wotan disappoints only by the high standard that James Morris and his many successors have established. Fifty years ago, Delavan would have been acclaimed like the Second Coming. Also, listening to the role of Siegfried and not even once coming close to wincing is a rare experience indeed. So Daniel Johansson lends cause for optimism.

Had Fabio Luisi been more consistently in the mood and—most importantly—willing to keep the proceedings on the move, this just might have been a persuasive Der Ring des Nibelungen. Then again, could anyone have overcome the albatross of a Brünnhilde with which this recording was laden? Ultimately, Luisi could have made a difference but chose not to ... which is this Ring's ultimate failing.—David McKee