“Simon Boccanegra” – in its standard 1881 revision – is an undisputed, though infrequently performed, masterpiece.

But what of its very first iteration from 1857? Its premiere, at Venice’s La Fenice, famously turned into a fiasco. Julian Budden, for example, admitted to the hostility with which the libretto was received, while Verdi himself, in a letter to Giraldoni, wryly picked up on what appears to have been the chief complaint: “If there aren’t many melismata in my music,” the maestro satirizes, “there’s no need to clutch at your hair and throw a mad fit.”

No such trauma is likely to befall modern ears; certainly not with OperaRara, whose new recording of the 1857 score upholds the label’s reputation for meticulous scholarship – but beware: the first “Boccanegra” remains an altogether unpolished affair.

A Gritty Beast

The accompanying booklet makes a compelling case; yet for all its novelty, the opera is a very rough gem. Notably, its austerity – its economy of means – prevents it from being on par with, for instance, the ingenuity of “Un ballo in maschera” (which was a mere two years away). The libretto stays patchy, and where the 1881 version benefits from refined harmonics that bolster its psychological depth, the original “Boccanegra” leans conservative.

As such, it resides closer to “Il trovatore” than to the stylistic developments of Verdi’s later years, and its prescient attempts at through-composition are all but budding in their effect. Crucially also, the Council Chamber scene has yet to be devised, leaving the work without an equivalent of near-comparable grandeur.

Roger Parker is careful not to express a preference, but if pressed, one finds few reasons to champion the original over the Verdi-Boito revamp. The first “Boccanegra” is Romantic in atmosphere, but not in spirit; its facture more than anything is indebted to the bedrock of traditional Italian opera. This may explain its apparent disconnect and why it requires as steady a hand as Mark Elder’s to be shaped into a cohesive whole. 

Fill in the Gap?

Easier said than done. The titular character has no aria, and his profile lacks the three-dimensionality provided by the revision’s more sophisticated orchestration. Still, Germán Enrique Alcántara is a magnificent Simon. His softly grained, malleable voice sidesteps declamatory pitfalls, speckling the line with affable pathos. Seconded by Elder’s firm yet careful touch, he does not impersonate a larger-than-life doge; rather, his whisper-like mezza voce in the death scene rather startlingly puts in the spotlight his very humanity – in response, perhaps, to the effects of great personal tragedy.

Eri Nakamura and Iván Ayón-Rivas are superb as Amelia and Gabriele Adorno. Ayón-Rivas’ rock-solid, bronze-colored middle register invites comparison to a younger Plácido Domingo, while Nakamura melds the Bel canto style of “Sì, sì dell’ara il giubilo” with profusions of finely spun lyricism. But the real standout is William Thomas, whose Fiesco may quite simply be the best in recent memory. He phrases generously, much like Nicolai Ghiaurov, and the inflections in “A te l’estremo addio… Il lacerato spirito” are a delightful clin-d’oeil to the legacy of the Bulgarian bass.

Mark Elder, at the helm of The Hallé, ensures individual successes cohere into a persuasive whole. But is that enough to raise “Simon Boccanegra” beyond the sonic spectacle of just a one-off? The answer may disappoint. Unlike OperaRara’s 2019 release of the original “Le Villi” (“Le Willis”), this early “Boccanegra” is not apt to fill any epistemological gaps, nor does it significantly alter history’s judgement of this forgotten score. Budden considered the 1881 revision a definitive step up – and, for all the label’s customary brilliance, I am inclined to agree.