Andrea Chenier is, above all else, a reasonable opera where production forces are concerned. Its underrated composer planned it that way, and it was a good plan. There are no extravagant demands made of singers or orchestra, as occurs more often than audiences suspect. It would be nice if the tenor could move properly on stage, but if he just wants to stand there with feet planted and sing, Giordano lets him safely get away with that, too. If the bass baritone singing Iago in Verdi’s Otello pays no attention to the dynamic markings in “Era la notte,” the piece will fall flat, for its effect relies entirely upon establishing the mood Verdi desired; but if Gerard does as much in Andrea Chenier ’s “Nemico della patria,” he can still win his applause through purely vocal means.

This came to mind while listening to Aldo Protti’s Gerard, as recorded live at Venice’s La Fenice on March 20, 1972. He did assay both Iago and Gerard—the former doubly unfortunate for being a commercial release under the baton of Karajan, which meant more critical attention paid to performance subtleties, given the conductor’s oft-stated standards, than might otherwise prove the case. Protti was over-parted, but his Gerard is another matter. It is sonorous, generously phrased, and clearly enunciated, if with little attention to dynamics or the niceties of character. You can do more than get by on that in Andrea Chenier , however, as noted above.

Raina Kabaiwanska was in excellent form that night. In her heyday, she was a fine lyric soprano with a rich sound and the ability to project throughout very large theaters, even in the softest of passages. The ripe beauty of the voice isn’t caught well by the stage microphones, but her passion (never achieved at the expense of line or dynamics) is.

On commercial operatic recordings, usually made for RCA, Carlo Bergonzi usually comes across as a correct, careful, somewhat fastidious singer. Freed of the necessity to limit chance-taking in studio recording schedules, his Chenier offers both more detail and excitement. Bergonzi’s “Un di al azzurro spazio” gives us the soldier and the poet with more than a hint of the fearless attack and musical intelligence that would lead the tenor to attempt Otello in 2000 (at the age of 76, in a concert performance. His allergies prevented its conclusion, but rehearsal tapes are impressive). It is still not an ideal voice for the role, lacking the metal that, for instance, Bernardo de Muro brings to his amazing 1912 recording; and there are very occasional moments when Bergonzi takes chances and runs out of breath, leading to a few declaimed passages. But his Chenier is thoroughly realized, a brilliant assumption of its kind, and just as effective in the fourth act as it is in the first.

The conductor, Peloso, is inclined to rush tempos during parlando passages, as though untrusting of his singers and the liberties they might take. For the rest, he conducts competently, with an emphasis on the singing line, and the La Fenice musicians respond with such beauty of tone as the age and provenance of the recording permits us to hear.

Where the sound of this release is concerned, it should be remembered that Living Stage simply copies whatever cassette dub they receive to disc. The original microphone placement was very good, close yet resonant, but the sound is slightly cloudy and dull. There are also occasional dropouts, volume changes, a few missing notes, and even one doubled passage due to a mistaken tape splice. None of this will likely matter to the intended audience for this release, however. Nor should it: Bergonzi fans will find new reason to lament his unavoidable departure from the stage. Warts and all, this is an Andrea Chenier to relish.

FANFARE: Barry Brenesal