We had  a pleasant lunch, with his apparently 16 year old girlfriend, but my diary did not lie: I was due in Massachusetts for most of August. Gianluigi was quite convinced I would be free, and gave me his phone number in Monte Carlo. And I guess he must have occult powers, because when I got home there was a fax from the Boston Symphony changing the Tanglewood dates completely. Gianluigi was quite unsurprised when I called, and finally told me what the possible booking was all about: 4 performances of Rossini’s Opera Seria Semiramide at Pesaro, on the east coast of Italy.

Once I had rather incautiously agreed to take part, I needed a lot of answers: Who was directing? Who was singing? Was the chorus really from Croatia? Who was playing? Oh, the Stuttgart Radio Orchestra. But above all: What on earth was a Rossini Opera Seria? I only knew the well-known Overtures, including Semiramide, and the light-hearted Barbiere and Cenerentola.  When the vast volumes of the scores arrived I was even more puzzled.  Immense musical numbers, Acts lasting over 2 hours, a mesmerising story of violence and tragic entombment. It seemed I had somehow agreed to take care of a monster, which I didn’t understand, with a crowd of people I had never met.

First of all I had rehearsals with Stuttgart in June, before their vacation. In August I met the chorus (not bad),the principals (pretty impressive), the director (powerful) and the sets (Hollywood, like the score). I gradually began to see what I could do with it. The enormous individual numbers lasted 20 minutes and needed careful paceing. All the Recitatives  are accompanied, but they needed speeding up to the speed of comprehensible speech. After the premiere I realised we had as a result shortened the opera by at least 30 minutes. Even so it was immense: Act I ran at 2 hours 20 minutes, after which the orchestra porter kindly brought me a stein of good Italian beer to prepare for Act 2, which lasted 1 hour 30.

The following year, following a couple of operations for cancer, I was reinvited for Zelmira, Rossini’s last Neapolitan opera. This time we were in the real theatre, but with the somewhat indifferent Bologna opera orchestra.

this was a brand new production, so I had the opportunity to introduce some historical elements into the singing and playing. I had always wanted to have Rossini sung and played in a real Bel Canto tradition, rather than a Late Romantic, Puccini one. This was more Mozart’s world than Verdi’s. I didn’t expect to get rid of vibrato, but I did aim for Classical tempi, and a proper detailed use of appoggiaturas.

Some singers took to it more than others, but on the whole we made progress. Getting Italians to sing the same way they speak is sometimes hard. “Rômâ”?  I would say, with a dull accent on each syllable. “No, no Maestro: Rôma”, dwelling lovingly on the single accent. “Then could you please sing it that way!” 

The orchestra was somewhat disappointing, their woodwind intonation distinctly on the sour side. But at least the strings were delighted with the idea of phrasing. They didn’t reckon to have met that before. I guess that the natural ebullience and musicality of both singers and players must be stamped out in their Conservatorie.

The production, by a charming Swiss gentleman, was clear and unfussy, and much appreciated by the audience. Unfortunately, being Italy, a bribed claque of young men in identical dark suits took their seats in one of the boxes and, during the curtain calls, loudly  booed any performer who was not Italian. That meant several singers, including the star tenor, the director, and me. After the first night we took no solo calls. I arranged that we all appeared together each time, and the baffled claque, unable to demonstrate, were led away by the police. Much better….