Verdi's original version of Simon Boccanegra from Sir Mark Elder and Opera Rara

At first glance Verdi’s Simon Boccanegra looks like an unexpectedly mainstream choice for Opera Rara, the London-based organisation specialising in ‘live operatic archaeology’. With its sombre sound-world dominated by male voices and a convoluted plot centering on political machinations in fourteenth-century Genoa, the opera has never enjoyed the same popularity as Verdi’s other mature works - but it certainly gets out far more than Leoncavallo’s I Zingari, Donizetti’s L’esule di Roma or Mercadante’s Il Proscritto, all of which the label has recently brought to life.

There is, of course, a twist. Rather than the familiar 1881 revision of the score which Verdi prepared in collaboration with librettist Arrigo Boito (a fine composer in his own right), Opera Rara’s former artistic director Sir Mark Elder and repertoire-consultant Roger Parker have opted for the original version which premiered at La Fenice in 1857 using a heavily tweaked text by Francesco Maria Piave. Although this early incarnation was revived on numerous occasions across Italy over the next decade, Verdi deemed the project a ‘fiasco’, and it took years of careful cajoling from his publisher Ricordi to persuade him to revisit the work with a new partner.

Certainly Boccanegra 2.0 scores more highly in terms of concision and dramatic impetus than its forerunner, not least because of Verdi and Boito’s decision to replace the excitingly noisy but rather prolix finale to the original Act One with the nail-biting ‘Council Chamber’ scene in which Boccanegra forces his enemy Paolo to curse himself. But taken on its own terms the 1857 score provides thrills and spills aplenty, and it’s impossible not to be swept along by Elder’s palpable belief in its power and immediacy.

The differences are evident from the top. Whereas the later version steals into life as the devious Paolo does some insidious electioneering against a deceptively calm backdrop of hushed strings, the 1857 score charges out of the starting-gates with a blood-and-thunder Prelude which offers several foretastes of the musical riches to come.

Listeners familiar with the standard version of the opera will spot all manner of surprises in terms of the orchestration (in particular the punctuation of recitatives in the early scenes), vocal lines in the numerous ensembles, and the role of the chorus in general. But perhaps more significant is the writing for Boccanegra’s estranged daughter Maria/Amelia, which emphasises her kinship with Gilda in Rigoletto (premiered six years earlier) far more than the 1881 revision. Lighter of voice than we usually hear in the role, Eri Nakamura handles the coloratura and extreme high notes effectively, although she sometimes loses bite lower down and sounds slightly unsettled in her opening aubade. (In fairness Verdi’s spare, rather workaday accompaniment here doesn’t help, and pales in comparison to the radiant colours he would conjure twenty-four years later).

Another compelling reason to invest in this new recording is the quality of the male principals: this is a very young cast for an opera which is dominated by the power-struggles between elder statesmen, and it’s wonderful to hear three relative newcomers making their mark with such presence and assurance. Bass William Thomas wasn’t yet thirty at the time of recording but brings ideal gravitas and sonority to the role of Fiesco (Boccanegra’s adversary and common-law father-in-law), whilst Peruvian tenor Iván Ayón-Rivas has power to burn as the young firebrand Gabriele Adorno, his potent golden tone and unmannered elegance recalling the young José Carreras.

At the heart of it all is the Argentinian baritone Germán Enrique Alcántara, who stepped into the project at very short notice to make his recording-debut and first appearance in a major Verdi role. It sounds like Boccanegra has been in his repertoire for years: no nuance is lost on him (the recognition-scene with his daughter and his eventual death-throes will make your eyes prickle), and the high tessitura of the role holds no terrors. Let’s hear more from him on record as soon as possible.

The only competition for the 1857 version (also issued by Opera Rara but now out of print) is a 1975 BBC broadcast recording with an off-form Sesto Bruscantini in the title-role; given the superior sound-quality, the sense of three stars being born and Elder’s passionate advocacy, this new set is self-recommending.