Ritengo che nell'ultimo Verdi e nella musica sacra, oltre che nel repertorio mozartiano, Riccardo Muti continui a dare il meglio di sè, raggiungendo risultati elevatissimi e difficilmente eguagliabili.
È impossibile non ricordare le bellissime esecuzioni della trilogia dapontiana, come pure delle ultime sinfonie mozartiane e delle numerose Messe di Cherubini - con cui il Maestro ha fatto conoscere al mondo il genio del compositore italiano - e le sempre più frequenti incursioni in Bruckner, seguendo mirabilmente le orme di Karajan.
Dove però Muti appare assolutamente inimitabile essendo pervenuto - dopo un continuo lavoro di scavo passato anche attraverso momenti di ripensamento critico - a vette irraggiungibili è senza dubbio in Verdi, in particolare nella produzione ultima a partire dal Don Carlo per proseguire con Aida, Otello e Falstaff.
In questo panorama si inserisce prepotentemente la Messa da Requiem, eseguita da Muti fin dagli esordi - addirittura nel 1971 in San Lorenzo a Firenze - poi ripetutamente affrontata negli anni della Scala (esiste una registrazione del 1987 in cui spicca la presenza di Luciano Pavarotti) anche nella Chiesa di San Marco, da ultimo alla guida dei Wiener Philarmoniker al recente Festival di Salisburgo 2019, in una esecuzione di rara intensità che difficilmente verrà scordata dal pubblico presente.
Finalmente veniamo al CD qui recensito, contenente la registrazione dal vivo della "Messa" eseguita dal Maestro nel 2009 alla guida della Chicago Symphony Orchestra: si tratta, a mio parere, di un'edizione imperdibile in cui Muti, avvalendosi anche della pregevole prestazione dell'orchestra e dell'ottimo coro, ha sviscerato tutte le sfumature insite in questo capolavoro verdiano.
Risulta interessante il confronto tra quest'ultima ed una precedente versione dello stesso Muti, pur degna di nota, registrata nel '79 alla guida della Philarmonia Orchestra.
Allora la versione risultava molto più teatrale, veloce e vibrante soprattutto nei brani di maggior effetto, in particolare nel "Dies irae", alla presenza di cantanti decisamente prestanti (soprattutto la Scotto e Luchetti), ma a tratti anche indisciplinati e pronti a sfoggiare l'acuto di rito; nell'edizione del 2009 il controllo del Maestro è assoluto sia sulla parte orchestrale che su quella canora, l'esecuzione procede con grande intensità, mirando non tanto a far emergere i momenti più esaltanti, quanto il continuo dialogo fra uomo e Dio che si snoda lungo tutta la partitura, la supplica a fronte del rigetto, fino al "Libera me " e al tremendo accordo finale in Do maggiore, solitamente segno di gioia, mentre qui così foriero di pessimismo.
In tal modo, puntando piuttosto sull'intensità che sulla dinamica, non viene certo sminuita la bellezza degli ottoni, mentre risulta più avvincente la trama setosa degli archi e ugualmente i cantanti - fra cui spiccano la Frittoli e Abdrazakov - appaiono certo più controllati, ma proprio per questo in grado di esprimere al meglio le profondità racchiuse nel "Requiem": la partecipazione al "Lacrimosa" fa realmente gonfiare gli occhi e le tre diverse intonazioni del "Libera me" rendono altamente drammatico il momento della fine, suscitando ben altra impressione rispetto a quanto si sarebbe potuto ottenere da una maggiore, quanto inutile, concitazione.
Requiem
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曲目リスト
ディスク: 1
1 | Requiem: Requiem Aeternam |
2 | Dies Irae: Dies Irae, Dies Illa |
3 | Dies Irae: Tuba Mirum |
4 | Dies Irae: Mors Stupebit |
5 | Dies Irae: Liber Scriptus |
6 | Dies Irae: Quid Sum Miser |
7 | Dies Irae: Rex Tremendae |
8 | Dies Irae: Recordare |
9 | Dies Irae: Ingemisco |
10 | Dies Irae: Confutatis |
11 | Dies Irae: Lacrymosa |
ディスク: 2
1 | Offertorio |
2 | Sanctus |
3 | Agnus Dei |
4 | Lux Aeterna |
5 | Libera Me |
登録情報
- メーカーにより製造中止になりました : いいえ
- 製品サイズ : 14.17 x 0.81 x 12.88 cm; 117.93 g
- メーカー : Cso Resound
- EAN : 0810449011068
- 商品モデル番号 : CSOR9011006
- オリジナル盤発売日 : 2010
- SPARSコード : DDD
- レーベル : Cso Resound
- ASIN : B003WL7EJE
- ディスク枚数 : 2
- Amazon 売れ筋ランキング: - 291,235位ミュージック (ミュージックの売れ筋ランキングを見る)
- - 1,285位宗教音楽・教会音楽
- - 4,541位オペラ・声楽 (ミュージック)
- - 82,627位輸入盤
- カスタマーレビュー:
他の国からのトップレビュー

Roberto
5つ星のうち5.0
Messa da Requiem imperdibile!
2019年10月6日にイタリアでレビュー済みAmazonで購入

Todd Kay
5つ星のうち5.0
Majestatis
2010年10月6日にアメリカ合衆国でレビュー済みAmazonで購入
A few advance notes in the interest of full disclosure: I have awaited the release of this set with unusual eagerness from the time it was announced, shortly after Riccardo Muti's unofficial Chicago "coronation" with two euphorically reviewed Verdi Requiems (of which this is a composite) in January 2009. A player in the CSO whose tenure dates back decades, and who has played for several legendary conductors in his time, told me that the concerts and rehearsals were among the greatest music-making experiences of his life. In addition, the work is a specialty piece of mine; I admire Maestro Muti's Verdi recordings in general, and his first recording of the Requiem (made in London for EMI, 1979) has long been one of my favorites of the stereo years. (His first remake, from 1987, Milan, EMI, I found disappointing, the soloists and Scala forces promising more on paper than the set delivered.) On the basis of all I knew and had heard, I expected one for the ages, but was determined to listen objectively and critically. I can report that in almost every respect, my expectations were either met or exceeded.
More and more over the years, I have come to believe that it is nearly impossible to conduct a great performance of the Verdi Requiem without being an experienced conductor of the Verdi operas. Every recorded Verdi Requiem to which I regularly return meets that criterion. Nothing makes me more skeptical than hearing that some didactic tourist conductor has "scrubbed the work clean of its theatrical elements." I can't imagine a more absurd goal. This is not a Bach motet. As Muti notes in Phillip Huscher's excellent booklet interview, "The Verdi Requiem is a fight between men, women, and God. We ask God to take responsibility, and even when we pray to Him in the most tender way, His answer is always aggressive and without pity." This epic spiritual confrontation could not be more dramatic. Muti, like Verdi, has spent much of his professional life in the theater, and he makes his credentials tell. His performance combines the most up-to-date critical edition of the work (another claim that can arouse skepticism, but this time, if you know the piece, you actually will hear differences) with over 40 years of experience and refinement. The 1979 recording mentioned above, similar in outline and excellent on its own terms, seems brash and rigid in comparison. The contrasts between fast and slow, loud and soft, already pronounced in 1979, have only grown more extreme. And in 2009, a degree of flexibility undreamt-of 30 years earlier has gotten in. I have never heard a performance led by Muti with more consistently pronounced rubato, so much maneuvering room left for the soloists, albeit within a tightly controlled scheme. I suppose it may be *too* much rubato for some. I could imagine a listener disliking it on the grounds that Muti is "pulling the tempo around like taffy," or similar wording. But there seems always to be an expressive point to his devices, and a clear destination, and a sense of carefully judged proportions and relationships.
I will give a few examples: The work's very opening is decidedly on the slow side, but right from the first bars, I had no concern at all that this would be another slo-mo horror show in the manner of Reiner (Decca) or, worse, Barbirolli (EMI). By means of accent, color and phrasing, Muti and the Chicago forces make the rather daring tempo work -- the slowness at the outset is not lethargic; it's quietly *menacing*, like the blackest storm clouds drifting in. The pauses in the last line of that movement (within the chorus's final "Christe eleison") are the longest held I've ever heard, and this applies also to the pause before the final "Amen" in the Lacrymosa, and (most chillingly) the one before the final appearance of the Dies Irae theme in the Libera me. The Dies Irae itself and the Sanctus, which Muti took so fast in 1979 that his excellent players could barely get to all the notes, are no less bracing here for being less hectic. As slow as the slowest parts are, the performance nevertheless comes out to a deliberate but not notably long 89 minutes (about equal to the first Karajan/DG), because there is an eye toward balance. Rex tremendae accelerates excitingly near its conclusion, and "Quam olim Abrahae" in the Offertorio *really* catches fire (both times).
A responsible review must also credit chorus director Duain Wolfe; this is his triumph as well. The 170-member Chicago Symphony Chorus goes right to the top of the recorded list here, with applause earned for their overall cohesion, the specificity of their dynamics, their unbelievably crisp consonants en masse. They are together in a way we take for granted in the modern "historical" ensembles of much smaller size, but rarely hear elsewhere. Their work, Muti's conducting and the CSO's execution combine for a view of the work that is individual, exact, and often breathtaking. On many occasions, I felt I was listening to a kind of ultimate performance: everything in perfect equilibrium; Verdi's careful placement of soloists, orchestra, and chorus sonically stacked in ways that allowed me to hear *every* element -- top, bottom, and middle. Of course, everything done here was always on the page and possible to do, and many performances have matched the results in this or that moment. But so many such moments in one place? Rarely. Certainly on no recording this technically well made.
This provides an ideal segue to a comment on the sound. This is a closely miked recording with an intentionally dry acoustic that will be more or less pleasing to taste. As has been noted elsewhere, it accurately recreates the experience of being in Orchestra Hall. More importantly, and more likely to be a matter of unanimous agreement, the recording encompasses the extremes of both the Requiem and Muti's treatment of it. When it is quiet, it is audible (the audience is unnoticeable); when it is loud, it is expansive, full and without a hint of congestion. A stunning engineering job.
Going by what has *not* been mentioned in five paragraphs of praise, the reader probably can guess which "But..." is coming. I don't know if it is possible to find in the world four Verdi singers ideal for this framework. A quartet such as that of Karajan's 1967 Scala film (Leontyne Price, Fiorenza Cossotto, Luciano Pavarotti, and Nicolai Ghiaurov) would be wonderful, but if such people are out there, they have not gone into opera singing. The soloists Muti has are hard workers and conscientious musicians who are dramatic without doing anything for cheap display. Surely at the conductor's insistence, they chase down every dynamic marking like bloodhounds, and make many haunting effects in the quiet music (of which more here is accurately observed than is typical). No, they are not the AIDA cast Verdi desired, but they give the conductor and the audience everything their voices can do. This is enough.
Bel canto tenor Mario Zeffiri is the least familiar name. The effect he makes is similar to that of Nicolai Gedda (Giulini/EMI), although the voice's dimensions may be even more modest. Zeffiri's tone is too pale and heady to be called beautiful, but he deploys his resources intelligently enough at times (e.g., his last line in Quid sum miser) to make one forget that. Still, this is heavier lifting than ideal for him, and he veers sharp under pressure more than once. Bass Ildar Abdrazakov, who was Muti's Moses in Milan and more recently his Attila at the Met, was in his early 30s at the time, and sounds it. Abdrazakov *does* have an ingratiating, freshly minted sound; his voice is of modest size and he uses it expressively. Soprano Barbara Frittoli is a long-time Muti favorite, featured on many of his audio and video recordings of the past two decades. Her roles for him have ranged from Fiordiligi to the TROVATORE Leonora. The quick vibrato that always has been part of her production has loosened and widened in recent years, and it now compromises her line. Too, the low notes, always weak, have not gotten more authoritative with the passage of time. As was the case in recent appearances as Bizet's Micaëla at the Met, Frittoli is getting by on a still-attractive timbre, good musical intentions, and an affecting sincerity of method. There is much to admire if one can listen around that significant beat. Olga Borodina (Abdrazakov's wife) recorded the mezzo part almost a decade earlier (Gergiev/Philips). She remains the most traditionally satisfying (i.e., ample-voiced and imposing) of the current group. Interestingly, Muti has Borodina get off of the last note of "proferetur" and "continetur" (opening of Liber scriptus) more quickly than any mezzo in my experience, including Baltsa and Zajick on his previous recordings. The four soloists combine for much exquisite ensemble work -- their unaccompanied passage in the Lacrymosa is one of this recording's many remarkable feats of integration.
A curious aside: It occurs to me that these soloists are similar down the line to Muti's 1979 group -- Scotto/Frittoli (Italian lyrics with heavier ambitions, showing some wear); Baltsa/Borodina (temperamental non-native mezzos who sing Verdi but are not specialists); Luchetti/Zeffiri (light, unglamorous Italian lyric tenors); Nesterenko/Abdrazakov (compact Slavic bassos).
Often when a work recorded too many times is recorded again, there is an excitement accompanying the new release that proves excessive in retrospect. One looks back several years later at reviews declaring that this or that was an instant classic, and wonders what the fuss was about. No one ever mentions the thing when a recommendation is sought, and it came and went (out of print, sometimes) without leaving a footprint. I will go out on a limb and say that that will not happen this time. With the caveat that the solo singing represents a necessary compromise (though, as my respectful comments above indicate, not a liability), this is an important addition to the discography. It should be heard by anyone who cares about the work; it will endure as one of the great documents of the Verdi Requiem, of Muti, and of the CSO. The Chicago Resound label has my thanks, as well as a request: a release of the conductor's subsequent Brahms Requiem would be a dream of a follow-up.
More and more over the years, I have come to believe that it is nearly impossible to conduct a great performance of the Verdi Requiem without being an experienced conductor of the Verdi operas. Every recorded Verdi Requiem to which I regularly return meets that criterion. Nothing makes me more skeptical than hearing that some didactic tourist conductor has "scrubbed the work clean of its theatrical elements." I can't imagine a more absurd goal. This is not a Bach motet. As Muti notes in Phillip Huscher's excellent booklet interview, "The Verdi Requiem is a fight between men, women, and God. We ask God to take responsibility, and even when we pray to Him in the most tender way, His answer is always aggressive and without pity." This epic spiritual confrontation could not be more dramatic. Muti, like Verdi, has spent much of his professional life in the theater, and he makes his credentials tell. His performance combines the most up-to-date critical edition of the work (another claim that can arouse skepticism, but this time, if you know the piece, you actually will hear differences) with over 40 years of experience and refinement. The 1979 recording mentioned above, similar in outline and excellent on its own terms, seems brash and rigid in comparison. The contrasts between fast and slow, loud and soft, already pronounced in 1979, have only grown more extreme. And in 2009, a degree of flexibility undreamt-of 30 years earlier has gotten in. I have never heard a performance led by Muti with more consistently pronounced rubato, so much maneuvering room left for the soloists, albeit within a tightly controlled scheme. I suppose it may be *too* much rubato for some. I could imagine a listener disliking it on the grounds that Muti is "pulling the tempo around like taffy," or similar wording. But there seems always to be an expressive point to his devices, and a clear destination, and a sense of carefully judged proportions and relationships.
I will give a few examples: The work's very opening is decidedly on the slow side, but right from the first bars, I had no concern at all that this would be another slo-mo horror show in the manner of Reiner (Decca) or, worse, Barbirolli (EMI). By means of accent, color and phrasing, Muti and the Chicago forces make the rather daring tempo work -- the slowness at the outset is not lethargic; it's quietly *menacing*, like the blackest storm clouds drifting in. The pauses in the last line of that movement (within the chorus's final "Christe eleison") are the longest held I've ever heard, and this applies also to the pause before the final "Amen" in the Lacrymosa, and (most chillingly) the one before the final appearance of the Dies Irae theme in the Libera me. The Dies Irae itself and the Sanctus, which Muti took so fast in 1979 that his excellent players could barely get to all the notes, are no less bracing here for being less hectic. As slow as the slowest parts are, the performance nevertheless comes out to a deliberate but not notably long 89 minutes (about equal to the first Karajan/DG), because there is an eye toward balance. Rex tremendae accelerates excitingly near its conclusion, and "Quam olim Abrahae" in the Offertorio *really* catches fire (both times).
A responsible review must also credit chorus director Duain Wolfe; this is his triumph as well. The 170-member Chicago Symphony Chorus goes right to the top of the recorded list here, with applause earned for their overall cohesion, the specificity of their dynamics, their unbelievably crisp consonants en masse. They are together in a way we take for granted in the modern "historical" ensembles of much smaller size, but rarely hear elsewhere. Their work, Muti's conducting and the CSO's execution combine for a view of the work that is individual, exact, and often breathtaking. On many occasions, I felt I was listening to a kind of ultimate performance: everything in perfect equilibrium; Verdi's careful placement of soloists, orchestra, and chorus sonically stacked in ways that allowed me to hear *every* element -- top, bottom, and middle. Of course, everything done here was always on the page and possible to do, and many performances have matched the results in this or that moment. But so many such moments in one place? Rarely. Certainly on no recording this technically well made.
This provides an ideal segue to a comment on the sound. This is a closely miked recording with an intentionally dry acoustic that will be more or less pleasing to taste. As has been noted elsewhere, it accurately recreates the experience of being in Orchestra Hall. More importantly, and more likely to be a matter of unanimous agreement, the recording encompasses the extremes of both the Requiem and Muti's treatment of it. When it is quiet, it is audible (the audience is unnoticeable); when it is loud, it is expansive, full and without a hint of congestion. A stunning engineering job.
Going by what has *not* been mentioned in five paragraphs of praise, the reader probably can guess which "But..." is coming. I don't know if it is possible to find in the world four Verdi singers ideal for this framework. A quartet such as that of Karajan's 1967 Scala film (Leontyne Price, Fiorenza Cossotto, Luciano Pavarotti, and Nicolai Ghiaurov) would be wonderful, but if such people are out there, they have not gone into opera singing. The soloists Muti has are hard workers and conscientious musicians who are dramatic without doing anything for cheap display. Surely at the conductor's insistence, they chase down every dynamic marking like bloodhounds, and make many haunting effects in the quiet music (of which more here is accurately observed than is typical). No, they are not the AIDA cast Verdi desired, but they give the conductor and the audience everything their voices can do. This is enough.
Bel canto tenor Mario Zeffiri is the least familiar name. The effect he makes is similar to that of Nicolai Gedda (Giulini/EMI), although the voice's dimensions may be even more modest. Zeffiri's tone is too pale and heady to be called beautiful, but he deploys his resources intelligently enough at times (e.g., his last line in Quid sum miser) to make one forget that. Still, this is heavier lifting than ideal for him, and he veers sharp under pressure more than once. Bass Ildar Abdrazakov, who was Muti's Moses in Milan and more recently his Attila at the Met, was in his early 30s at the time, and sounds it. Abdrazakov *does* have an ingratiating, freshly minted sound; his voice is of modest size and he uses it expressively. Soprano Barbara Frittoli is a long-time Muti favorite, featured on many of his audio and video recordings of the past two decades. Her roles for him have ranged from Fiordiligi to the TROVATORE Leonora. The quick vibrato that always has been part of her production has loosened and widened in recent years, and it now compromises her line. Too, the low notes, always weak, have not gotten more authoritative with the passage of time. As was the case in recent appearances as Bizet's Micaëla at the Met, Frittoli is getting by on a still-attractive timbre, good musical intentions, and an affecting sincerity of method. There is much to admire if one can listen around that significant beat. Olga Borodina (Abdrazakov's wife) recorded the mezzo part almost a decade earlier (Gergiev/Philips). She remains the most traditionally satisfying (i.e., ample-voiced and imposing) of the current group. Interestingly, Muti has Borodina get off of the last note of "proferetur" and "continetur" (opening of Liber scriptus) more quickly than any mezzo in my experience, including Baltsa and Zajick on his previous recordings. The four soloists combine for much exquisite ensemble work -- their unaccompanied passage in the Lacrymosa is one of this recording's many remarkable feats of integration.
A curious aside: It occurs to me that these soloists are similar down the line to Muti's 1979 group -- Scotto/Frittoli (Italian lyrics with heavier ambitions, showing some wear); Baltsa/Borodina (temperamental non-native mezzos who sing Verdi but are not specialists); Luchetti/Zeffiri (light, unglamorous Italian lyric tenors); Nesterenko/Abdrazakov (compact Slavic bassos).
Often when a work recorded too many times is recorded again, there is an excitement accompanying the new release that proves excessive in retrospect. One looks back several years later at reviews declaring that this or that was an instant classic, and wonders what the fuss was about. No one ever mentions the thing when a recommendation is sought, and it came and went (out of print, sometimes) without leaving a footprint. I will go out on a limb and say that that will not happen this time. With the caveat that the solo singing represents a necessary compromise (though, as my respectful comments above indicate, not a liability), this is an important addition to the discography. It should be heard by anyone who cares about the work; it will endure as one of the great documents of the Verdi Requiem, of Muti, and of the CSO. The Chicago Resound label has my thanks, as well as a request: a release of the conductor's subsequent Brahms Requiem would be a dream of a follow-up.

STEWART CROWE
5つ星のうち3.0
An all too familiar and depressing situation in this uneven recording.
2012年9月27日に英国でレビュー済みAmazonで購入
This is a depressingly familiar tale-great playing and choral singing and inadequate soloists. Great recordings of this work abound, notably from Giulini (of course), Abbado, Bernstein, Solti, Karajan, Muti's earlier recording, Shaw and my own particular favourite-Reiner with the VPO. This is just a smattering of the selection of fine recordings available, and so any new version must really have a lot going for it to warrant a recommendation, but sadly this is not the case here.
I have sympathy for Concert Promoters and Conductors who have to plan concerts months, even years, in advance in order to secure the services of the renowned soloists which so many audiences demand. This results all too frequently in performances where the vocal condition of said artist has deteriorated and there seems to be a lack of either willingness or ability to substitute these artists.
I can imagine that this is the case with this recording in at least one case.
The live recording is vivid and dynamic in the typical Chicago style from this venue, with thunderous bass and metallic, gleaming upper strings all in a slightly airless acoustic. The chorus is huge and sings with both gusto and beauty as required, and the Dies Irae is predictably spectacular, though I like more "snarl" in the brass in the "Rex Tremendae".
Muti's reading is the forthright, somewhat no-nonsense approach we expect from him, but does not lack sensitivity in the more spiritual numbers, even if it is somewhat fast-paced spirituality!
All this is effective enough-until we get to the soloists. The Bass is superb, reminding me of Ghiaurov in his prime. The Tenor is -I'm sorry about this-vile!
His pinched, nasal tone and unsteady legato are everything one does NOT want to hear in this work (or any other in my case!)-even Bocelli is preferable on the Gergiev! I had feared that Borodina would be the liability, but in truth, although there is some of the wooliness and shrillness at the top end, she's better than I had hoped, unlike Frittoli who is the renowned artist to whom I alluded earlier. I cannot imagine that Muti envisioned her thin, unsteady warbling when she was booked for the concert, but I'm afraid that she is truly awful, especially when compared to other fine exponents of this beautiful role.
I note that this recording has received several awards in the USA-I'm afraid that it's all too typical of lowered expectations in modern performance.
Therefore, the only reason to buy this recording is to experience the very vivid sonics, or if you are a "must have" collector of recordings by Muti or the CSO.
Might I suggest an alternative in the superb live Signum recording with the St Petersburg Philharmonic under Temirkanov-a blistering performance, viscerally exciting and spiritually moving in equal measure, a superb recording and soloists who if not in the front rank are nonetheless excellent, superior in every respect to this grouping with the possible exception of the Bass. 3 stars is generous. Stewart Crowe.
I have sympathy for Concert Promoters and Conductors who have to plan concerts months, even years, in advance in order to secure the services of the renowned soloists which so many audiences demand. This results all too frequently in performances where the vocal condition of said artist has deteriorated and there seems to be a lack of either willingness or ability to substitute these artists.
I can imagine that this is the case with this recording in at least one case.
The live recording is vivid and dynamic in the typical Chicago style from this venue, with thunderous bass and metallic, gleaming upper strings all in a slightly airless acoustic. The chorus is huge and sings with both gusto and beauty as required, and the Dies Irae is predictably spectacular, though I like more "snarl" in the brass in the "Rex Tremendae".
Muti's reading is the forthright, somewhat no-nonsense approach we expect from him, but does not lack sensitivity in the more spiritual numbers, even if it is somewhat fast-paced spirituality!
All this is effective enough-until we get to the soloists. The Bass is superb, reminding me of Ghiaurov in his prime. The Tenor is -I'm sorry about this-vile!
His pinched, nasal tone and unsteady legato are everything one does NOT want to hear in this work (or any other in my case!)-even Bocelli is preferable on the Gergiev! I had feared that Borodina would be the liability, but in truth, although there is some of the wooliness and shrillness at the top end, she's better than I had hoped, unlike Frittoli who is the renowned artist to whom I alluded earlier. I cannot imagine that Muti envisioned her thin, unsteady warbling when she was booked for the concert, but I'm afraid that she is truly awful, especially when compared to other fine exponents of this beautiful role.
I note that this recording has received several awards in the USA-I'm afraid that it's all too typical of lowered expectations in modern performance.
Therefore, the only reason to buy this recording is to experience the very vivid sonics, or if you are a "must have" collector of recordings by Muti or the CSO.
Might I suggest an alternative in the superb live Signum recording with the St Petersburg Philharmonic under Temirkanov-a blistering performance, viscerally exciting and spiritually moving in equal measure, a superb recording and soloists who if not in the front rank are nonetheless excellent, superior in every respect to this grouping with the possible exception of the Bass. 3 stars is generous. Stewart Crowe.

Daniel R. Lequia
5つ星のうち5.0
Great cd!
2023年7月31日にアメリカ合衆国でレビュー済みAmazonで購入
Wonderful music and performance though sound occasionally a bit overly bright.

angy-carlo
5つ星のうち5.0
Il migliore Requiem che possiedo
2012年4月12日にイタリアでレビュー済みAmazonで購入
Bellissimo doppio cd della CSO-Resound con direttore di orchestra Riccardo Muti. Fantastica la direzione di Muti, Fantastica la Chicago Symphony Orchestra e fantastica la qualita' dell' incisione. Perfetto.
Un live veramente eseguito con perfezione, pulizia del suono e magnifica registrazione.
Emozionante.
Un live veramente eseguito con perfezione, pulizia del suono e magnifica registrazione.
Emozionante.