When Hasse (who had been a pupil of Alessandro Scarlatti) wrote Piramo e Tisbe in 1768, he already had over 70 stage works to his credit and had long been the most famous opera composer in Europe, with a whole string of successes in his various sojourns in Dresden, Vienna and Venice. So when he called this ''one of the best things I have ever done... with this work I shall round off my theatrical career'' (in fact he didn't, but wrote one more opera), his words deserve to be taken seriously. This two-act intermezzo tragico—on the pattern of opera seria but enriched by characterization and an advanced technique of continuity—is indeed an outstandingly fine work, of which we are fortunate to have here a most rewarding performance and recording.
The story (from Ovid) is familiar from its parody in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, though besides the two ill-starred lovers there is a part for Thisbe's father, who because of an old feud (like Capulet in Romeo and Juliet) is bitterly opposed to Pyramus, and who at the end, discovering that they have both (in fatal misunderstandings) taken their own lives, also stabs himself as being responsible. In Hasse's setting a number of features at once capture the attention—the vigour of his melodic invention, the richness of the harmony, the very prominent role allotted to the orchestral wind (which includes, besides horns and bassoons, both flutes and oboes, who don't merely alternate), the strongly contrasting middle sections of da capo arias, the expressive, characterful and dramatic accompanied recitatives, and particularly the fluid continuity, so unlike the closed forms of the older opera seria. Here the spirited Overture leads straight into the first aria, thence into an accompanied recitative which in turn is linked with a duet (of great charm); and this kind of approach is constant, arias often being attached to secco recitatives which then become accompanied, or to ariosos; Act 2 begins with a sequence lasting nearly 18 minutes, made up of diverse elements.
The role of Pyramus was cast by Hasse as a breeches part (not for a castrato), and it is not always easy to distinguish between the two soprano voices in the regrettable absence of a printed libretto (for which a precis of individual numbers is not an adequate substitute, for example in the first recitative, which lasts four minutes). Both ladies, however, are admirable. The purity of Barbara Schlick's voice is well known, and her breath control in her first aria is awesome: she has a particularly delightful aria in Act 1 when, aided by wind soloists, Pyramus dreams of a happy existence for the pair far from the pressures of their present life. I had not heard Suzanne Gari before, but she too has a seductive tone (a trifle weak in the low notes of a very wide-compass part) and is adept at the baroque style: she has a fine aria, ''Perdero l'amato bene'', in which Thisbe tearfully promises her father to give up Pyramus if only she is not forced to marry another. Michel Lecocq is not quite their equal in vocal quality: he has splendidly clear enunciation, but in Act 1 does not convey the necessary paternal sternness: only at the end of Act 2, when he reappears, does he make the father's initial fury and then remorse convincing. The Capella Clementina (of authentic instruments) gives first-rate partnership to the singers—its oboes and horns call for special praise—and Muller-Bruhl not only seems unerring in his choice of tempos but keeps the work flowing forward with a well-judged sense of its drama. This is a most distinguished issue.'