Alberich: The part is shorter than that of the Rheingold Alberich, and for that reason alone is less punishing. The writing, though, is of the same persuasion: predominantly vehement declamation, dealing in upper Es and Fs (and a couple of G-flats) almost without let-up once past the opening Act 2 monologue—really rough tessitura for a bass. The current incumbent, Thomasz Konieczny, is listed as a bass-baritone. But on the basis of this hearing and that of his Abimélech in Samson et Dalila, he is no such thing, but a baritone, and a rather high-set one at that, strong in a lean-but-mean way that to my ear suggests a Valentin or a Ford, perhaps a Kurwenal. This is not to say that he did not sing well—he did, and of course the higher center of gravity in his voice meant that he took in all those trying declamations without strain or resort to unmusical barking. I will discuss the question of the relative timbres and weights of Siegfried‘s indicated voice types, and what they mean for the musical and dramatic effect of the opera, below, when an older standard of comparison comes into play.

Wanderer/Wotan: When I saw Michael Volle as The Dutchman a couple of seasons back, I entertained doubts about his projected Wotan. Though he had effective moments, his middle range didn’t always stay firm at full voice or convincingly connected at softer dynamics, and the top was chancey and dry. The Wanderer, though, lay comfortably for him, and while he sounded close to the lighter, more lyrical limit of the part’s potential, he sang steadily and expressively, and sustained the music’s line. I still found myself wondering how he had fared with the Walküre Wotan, but was grateful to hear this music pleasurably rendered.

Mime: Gerhard Siegel is practiced at the role, and secure in it. It’s an unusual voice type for Mime, rather baritonal and of some substance (a few of his sustained notes, when not intentionally distorted to “characterize,” suggested leading-role possibilities), so he is obliged to resort to an array of pinchings and jabbings to approximate Mime-ish complaints and protests. He does this skillfully enough, so the character’s part in the proceedings is carried out at a functional level, though not imaginatively enough to transcend the act’s almost inevitable difficulty, namely, that it consists mostly of two tenors, one a “character” tenor and the other often sounding like one, yelling at each other (one whining, the other bullying) for long stretches, interrupted by a whimsical riddle game that brings some relief with a lower, calmer voice, but still deploys the “character” tenor as one of the partners. It’s a tough task. Not as tough, though, as that of his co-tenor and chief interlocutor . . .

Siegfried: It was clear from his entrance that Andreas Schager has a voice of the strength and range to encompass the challenge of this role (a challenge equalled only by that of Tristan), and that his voice, unlike those of so many of his recent colleagues, actually sounds like a tenor’s, and of basically sympathetic quality at that. It was also immediately apparent that he has plentiful energy of the bounding-youth sort and an eagerness to put it all across to us, to the point of addressing his highly wired remarks directly at us whenever they were not (understandably) aimed at the conductor. This is in both respects exactly the reverse of what Wagner intended, but in a repertory situation and production revival unfamiliar to the performer, it’s hard to blame the latter.