Reading Cecilia Bartoli's biography in the Bridgewater Hall programme, you might think her best-selling collections of operatic arias, the imaginatively named Vivaldi and Gluck Albums, had restored the fortunes of the two composers at a stroke. All the pioneering work of the other conductors who have been toiling away at this music for much of the past quarter-century has been, it seems, as nothing compared with her Herculean achievements.
The latest composer to get the kiss of life from the mezzo-soprano is Antonio Salieri (1750-1825), a contemporary of Mozart and, at various times, teacher of Beethoven, Schubert and Liszt. Bartoli has just released, you've guessed it, The Salieri Album. Here, she appeared with the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment in what was either a part of her ongoing missionary work or the latest leg of a promotional tour, according to one's point of view.
Salieri has had a rough deal from the popular history of music: the story that he poisoned Mozart, invented soon after the younger composer's death, has taken an awfully long time to fade away. However, there is no real evidence that his music has suffered as a result. The concept of the unjustly neglected composer is a false one in any case. Salieri may have been one of the most successful operatic composers in the late 18th century, but that does not mean his music deserves to be restored. In neither the four overtures that the OAE played under the direction of its leader, Alison Bury, nor in the bundles of arias that Bartoli sang was there much evidence that we had been missing important experiences.
Bartoli's performance was a bit of a circus act - though admittedly one from a highclass, stylishly appropriate circus. There was some agile duetting with solo flute and oboe in numbers from La Fiera di Venezia and La Secchia Rapita, and a studied use of mezza voce in an aria from Salieri's version of Armida. But all the machinegun volleys of coloratura (the tone perhaps a little more pinched than it used to be) and the charm poured over everything couldn't disguise the ordinariness of most of the music. I doubt many came out of the concert whistling the tunes, although they probably bought Bartoli's album; there was, of course, a plentiful supply for sale at the hall.
· Repeated at Symphony Hall, Birmingham, tonight. Box office: 0121 780 3333.
