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Disc 1:

1. Preludio: 'Che dicesti?'
2. 'L'atra magion vedete?'
3. 'A te l'estremo addio' - 'Il lacerto spirito'
4. 'Suona ogni labbro il mio nome'
5. 'Oh, de' Fieschi implacata'
6. Preludio
7. 'Come in quest'ora bruna'
8. 'Cielo di stelle orbato' - 'Vieni a mirar la cerula marina tremolante'
9. 'Propizio ei giunge!'
10. 'Il Doge vien'
11. 'Orfanella il tetto umile' - 'Figlia!... a tal nome io palpito'
12. 'Che rispose'
13. Messeri, il re di Tartaria vi porge'
14. 'Ferisci!' - 'Amelia!'
15. 'Amelia, di' come fosti rapita'
16. 'Plebe! Patrizi! Popolo' - 'Piango su voi'
17. 'Ecco la spada' - 'Sia maledetto!'

Disc 2:

1. 'Quei due vedesti?'
2. 'Prigioniero in qual loco m'adduci?'
3. 'Udisti?' - 'Vil disegno!' - 'Sento avvampar nell'anima' - 'Cielo pietoso, rendila'
4. 'Tu qui?' - 'Amelia!'
5. 'Figlia!' - 'Sì afflitto, o padre mio?'
6. 'Oh! Amelia...ami...un nemico' - 'Perdono, Amelia'
7. 'All'armi, all'armi, o Liguri'
8. 'Evviva il Doge!'
9. 'M'ardon le tempia' - 'Come un fantasima Fiesco t'appar'
10. 'Piango, perché mi parla in te'
11. 'Chi veggo!'
12. 'Gran Dio, li benedici'

Rating: - Among the best, ever
As usual, Claudio Abbado brings to life opera (particularly Verdi): DG version of Simon Boccanegra is truly among the best achievements in opera recordings, with its central Grand Council scene shining like a crown daimond of a great composer and a great conductor.
It is, truly, a must.

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Rating: - needed to be seen
I happened to see this production in paris in the late 70's with the singers as in the CD, conductor Abbado, director Giorgio Strehler, and it is still engraved in my memory as one of those truly magical moments that justify years of listening to poor performances. The final act, the death of simon, was a moment of absollute beauty, with the two tremendous voices of Capuccilli dying and ghiaurov realising he is losing a son ...
It is true that Simon is not an easy opera, there are few aris, and the titel role has not a single aria. For those who like easy opera, go to Carmen, or traviata, or boheme (which incidentally I love and have seen many times with good (ah! boheme with freni-domingo!!, cosi with te kanawa and ludwig!!!) or less good singers and directors. Simon is second-grade opera: you graduate to simon once you start understanding what opera is really all about: sit, let the music immerge you (especially simon with its marine leitmotiv), and spend 2 or 3 hours (or 5 if its wagner) in another universe...
The recording is almost as good as the real thing, but since there no hope to ever see these singers together again, buy the record, close your eyes, and "bon voyage"

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Rating: - Perfection
An opera tends to boast, by nature, a fairly convoluted story. Figaros are suddenly recognized as Rafaellos, Pinkertons return with Kates, and Sparafuciles accidentally stab Gildas to death. However, this opera, with a strikingly poetic libretto by esteemed Verdi collaborators Francesco Maria Piave and Arrigo Boito, is singularly confusing enough to warrant a brief summary:

The story opens in Genoa in 1339. Simon Boccanegra, a corsair, has had an affair with Maria Fiesco, daughter of Jacopo Fiesco, the leader of the patricians; this liaison produced an illegitimate child (named after her mother), whom Boccanegra ordered reared in secret on the faraway shore of Pisa by a matron named Giovanna. The opera opens with Paolo Albiani and Pietro, two plebeians, plotting how to elect a suitable doge for Genoa; the current candidate favored by the plebeians, Lorenzino, is negated by Paolo, who asserts that he has "sold himself to the Fiesci." The two come to the conclusion that Boccanegra will be the best candidate: he will be easily manipulated and willing to reward his supporters. Boccanegra is at first unwilling to place himself in the political fray and he assents only when Paolo suggests that Maria will marry him if he is elected. However, the subsequent appearance of Fiesco informs the listener that Maria has died, and the nobleman has sworn lifelong vengeance upon Boccanegra for inflicting such shame upon her. Boccanegra attempts to calm the enraged patriarch, but the latter insists that he will only forgive the former if he is allowed access to his estranged grandchild; Boccanegra then reveals the fact that Giovanna died and the young child, alone in the world, disappeared from her humble home. Fiesco coldly leaves Boccanegra in shambles; the latter enters the palace of the Fiesci, only then to discover that his beloved Maria is dead. Moments later, Paolo and Pietro announce that he has been elected doge of Genoa.

The remainder of the opera occurs twenty-five years later. During this time, Boccanegra has eliminated most of his political enemies by exiling them and confiscating their properties and riches. Fiesco, also exiled, now lives under the pseudonym of "Andrea" and resides in the palace of the Grimaldi, his allies, outside Genoa. The Count of Grimaldi's daughter, who lived in a convent in Pisa, died some years ago; that same day, a young, wandering foundling appeared at the convent. The count, in his beleaguered grief, adopted her almost instantly. "Andrea" has acted as her guardian in recent years and has given her the name "Amelia Grimaldi," so that the riches of the noble family will not be confiscated by Boccanegra. (Fiesco does not, however, understand that "Amelia" is actually his granddaughter.) This summation will suffice; the rest of the opera is no more difficult to follow than any other.

Claudio Abbado is unsurpassed as a Verdian conductor; with Macbeth (Shirley Verrett, Piero Cappuccilli, Nicolai Ghiaurov, and Plácido Domingo), Don Carlo (Domingo, Katia Ricciarelli, Ruggero Raimondi, Lucia Valentini-Terrani, and Leo Nucci), Aida (Ricciarelli, Domingo, Elena Obraztsova, and Nucci), or Falstaff (Bryn Terfel and Thomas Hampson), his lyrical and clever triumphs are unsurpassed. This recording, however, is easily the greatest victory of his expansive career, regardless of the fact that it has boasted marvelous productions of every opera from Mozart to Mussorgsky to Berg; it ranks among the finest recordings of Italian opera produced, and it has been restored immaculately by Deutsche Grammophon engineers. The Orchestra del Teatro alla Scala plays with expected precision and depth. The opening sweeping, rustic strings immediately transport the listener to an Italy of yesteryear, of sun-drenched beaches, of hills carpeted in olive groves, and of imposing, shadowy, marble, Romanesque cities. The prelude to Act I, a strikingly uncharacteristic departure for Verdi, is also a distinct victory for the orchestra; it is an impressionistic musical introduction to a burgeoning dawn. One can see the pastel hues of the morning sky and smell the salty air cast up from the lapping waves; even the flowers and foliage of Maria's verdant garden, gently swaying in the wind, are vibrantly painted.

Piero Cappuccilli brings the multi-faceted, tortured Simon Boccanegra, a helpless man used for (and eventually murdered over) politics, to life with dramatic fury that Guinness and Gielgud would find impressive. His Prologue duet with Ghiaurov ("Suona ogni labbro il mio nome" ... "Se concedermi vorrai"), in which he is pleading and genuinely distraught and the latter is coldly retaliatory and scornful, is a masterful palate of the deep male register. Conversely, he is simultaneously majestic and terrifying as he condemns Paolo in Act I ("In te resiede l'austrero dritto popolar"); the frightful damnation closes malignantly with the Genoese populace hissing "May he be accursed" ("Sia maledetto!"). Boccanegra's subsequent lament in Act II ("Doge! Ancor proveran la tua clemenza") is a brittle, despondent tapestry of doom; as he drinks from the poisoned goblet, the scene is transformed into a dreamy, almost phantasmagoric state as he plunges into a drugged slumber.

Nicolai Ghiaurov is thunderous and appropriately hostile as the wronged and mourning father Jacopo Fiesco. His performance of "A te l'estremo addio...Il lacerato spirito," one of the most impressive arias ever conceived for the bass voice, in the Prologue, is rapturous. (The Coro del Teatro alla Scala is also successful here; the gentle, female choral intonations are pale and ghostly, but equally reverent and serene.) The sumptuous Act I duet ("Vieni a me, ti benedico") between Ghiaurov and Carreras is also superb; the Bulgarian bass is especially touching as the consenting patriarch, allowing the impassioned youth to marry his charge. Fiesco's music is classically lyrical but Gabrielle's music is strikingly antiquated and almost mystical.

Mirella Freni is a veritable goddess as Maria, Simon Boccanegra's estranged daughter, during her oscillating Act I aria ("Come in quest'ora bruna"). José Carreras is a portrait of masculine ardor as Gabrielle Adorno. His future vocal downfall and premature retirement, brought on by leukemia, is a distant thought from this endearing, astounding performance. His offstage introduction ("Cielo di stelle orbato"), set to the ecstatic, entranced plucking of harp, was a superb technical stroke of genius for Abbado; he is equally lyrically sumptuous during his Act II aria ("Sento avvampar nell'anima ... Cielo pietoso, rendila"), a hellish becoming for Boccanegra's torturous end and the subsequent lament for his supposedly wronged Maria. He and Freni, who excelled as Don Carlo and Elisabetta and (less admirably) as Aida and Rademès, are angelic as the young lovers during "Vieni a mirar la cerula," a charming duet of infatuation and "Sì, sì, dell'ara il giubilo," a frenzied, panicked exchange as Maria begs Gabrielle to marry her and save her from the advances of the "favorite" of the Doge.

José van Dam is the consummate schemer as the rapacious, deceiving Paolo Albiani. He is a spitting cobra in his brief but poignant Act II monologue ("Me stesso ho maledetto!...Qui ti stillo una lenta"); thumping bass strings and descending woodwinds perfectly animate his diabolical mind as he drips what is certainly an inky, turbid potion into Boccanegra's carafe. Giovanni Foiani is an august, weighty Pietro, Paolo's majordomo in plotting.

Some of the most impressive instances of the recording are the puissant Verdian ensembles. In the finale of the second scene of Act I ("Plebe! Patrizi! Popolo"), Cappuccilli is thunderous as the livid Boccanegra who shrewdly soothes his councilors by painting a pastoral panorama of the Italy conjured in the opening strains of the opera; an ensemble of the most succulent and gorgeous complexity emerges, with Freni begging for peace among fellow Italians, Ghiaurov lamenting Boccanegra's rule over Genoa, and Carreras confessing his affections for Maria. The smaller Prologue ensemble ("L'atra magion vedete?"), with van Dam cunningly turning the Genoese plebeians against the Fiesci with the opaquely mysterious, tragic tale of Boccanegra's Maria, is a marvelous meshing of a single voice with a chorus.

However, there are two areas of the recording which are unsurpassed by any other sector: the Act I duet ("Orfanella il tetto umile" ... "Figlia!...a tal nome io palpito") between Boccanegra and Maria and the entirety of the brief third act. The former is one of those operatic duets that erupts with so much passion that one cannot help but be swept away with the characters. The ecstatic Act I exchange between Butterfly and Pinkerton and the closing conversation between Onegin and Tatyana are two comparable examples. This is also one of Verdi's most tender duets, and it is surely more endearing than the exchange between Rigoletto and Gilda. Boccanegra, who has spent much of his life in an exhaustive search for his daughter, has finally found her; Maria, who was been equally perplexed by her bleak past, has been reunited with her true father. Freni is ineffably touching as Maria, but Cappuccilli is the star here: Boccanegra is a man who has found his redemption. His suffering and searching is ended and, though he has been the doge of Genoa for nearly a quarter of a century, now he can truly be joyful. The finale, constructed upon a heart-breaking blanket of strings and the soothing voice of the harp and Cappuccilli's last ecstatic utterance of "Daughter!" ("Figlia!"), could easily melt the iciest of hearts.

Oppositely, Act III is a pinnacle of Verdian tragedy. It is a marvelous outpouring of Italian melody and passion, from the opening choral shouts of jubilant victory to the closing moans of bereavement, accentuating by the saturnine pulse of a bass bell. Cappuccilli's bereft entrance ("M'ardon le tempia...un'atra vampa sento") recognizes that Boccanegra is a broken man, worthy of the pen of Thomas Hardy. He has been eaten from within by Paolo's vicious poison, and only the shell of the former seaman and adventurer is left. The frothy strings of the sea breeze restore, if only momentarily, his peace and health. It is once again affirmed that Boccanegra was not a politician, which adds a deeper vein to the tragedy of the story; he was a man manipulated by political corrupters onto the throne of the doge, a title he never had any desire to achieve. Ghiaurov's entrance ("Delle faci festani al barlume") is totally vindictive; Fiesco, the old, Godunovian lion, now an ancient nobleman after years of wrongdoing and hatred, has finally received the ultimate gift. Boccanegra is ruined; he is a mere shade of his former greatness and the purple of his nobility has rotted to nothing as he dies in lonesome shame. Their reconciliation ("Piango, perché mi parla") is one of the most touching musical portraits Verdi ever penned; both, though Boccanegra has finally received the forgiveness of Fiesco, are left broken after their years of separation. One was ruined by the fiend who catapulted him to power, the other by his all-consuming revulsion for the former. Ghiaurov is unimaginably tragic and Cappuccilli is desolating in his bewildered ecstasy. The act closes with a final ensemble ("Gran Dio, li benedici"); mustering his last tremor and ounce of human strength, Boccanegra blesses the marriage of Maria and Gabriele Adorno, his former enemy. The two downcast children harken in brokenhearted agony and Fiesco bemoans aside in woe. With his last breath, Boccanegra hands his throne to Adorno and whispers the name of his only beloved, "Maria."

It is, perhaps, a fortune in disguise that Simon Boccanegra remains the "black horse" of Verdi's later operas. No other possible recording, short of the resurrection of Boris Christoff and Jussi Björling, could be comparable to this masterwork, either in musical and vocal precision or in dramatic interpretation. This is, in short, a testament to the mastery of the conductor, orchestra, and singers involved, and it can crown numerous careers as a work of Verdian perfection.

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Rating: - The best Verdi opera in Abbado's Studio discography
Claudio Abbado's reign at La Scala produced some of the finest productions of Verdi's operas ever mounted on the stage. From that prolific era came his dark and revolutionary Macbeth (Verrett, Cappuccilli, Tagliavini), the greatest Don Carlo (Freni, Carreras, Cappucilli, Ghiaurov, Obraztsova), the most powerful Aidas (Arroyo, Domingo, Cossotto, Cappuccilli), and this outstanding Simon Boccanegra. Although I regard Don Carlo as one of Verdi's greatest achievements, I think this Boccanegra is the crown jewel in Abbado's extensive discography of great performances. He led a fascinating team of soloists with the La Scala orchestra and the great Italian opera producer Giorgio Strehler in what was the greatest stage production of Simon Boccanegra in operatic history. I don't think even Giancarlo del Monaco's dark, elegant sets combat this magnificent production in terms of symbolic lighting, stage direction, and production value.

Credit must be given primarily to Abbado for handling such a complex Verdi score. The luminescent and chiaroscuro shades and the dramatic colors begged by the 1881 revision of the score presents a challenge to any conductor willing to undertake the difficult task of presenting the work before an audience. In several aspects, I think Simon Boccanegra is second only to Don Carlo and Otello as the most difficult works of Verdi to conduct. In my opinion, only Abbado, Serafin, Mitropoulos, and recently, Fabio Luisi, have been able to successfully bring out the shades of ochre, crimson, and sienna that characterize this masterpiece. Abbado, of course, attained perfection in his interpretation of the score when he realized the many subtleties. The La Scala strings have never sounded more shimmering and beautiful, and the typical Verdian musical language is gracefully incorporated by Abbado into producing dramatic moments rather than distinctive arias. No, Abbado doesn't treat it like Otello, but rather as the continuous drama that it should be with elements of early Donizettian style taken from his incubation period to the thespian sense of his latter years.

Saying that, I think the cast also contributes to the success of this recording. In the history of the opera's performances, there is perhaps no Amelia more successful than Mirella Freni, and by that I say that she is better than Renata Tebaldi, Zinka Milanov, Antonietta Stella, Astrid Varnay, Karita Mattila, and Kiri te Kanawa, among the other singers who have assumed this demanding spinto role. Her beautiful, youthful timbre, her natural sense of phrasing, her mastery of the language, and her impeccable legato line allow her to focus herself on the drama of the performance, thus giving us a three-dimensional portrait of Amelia often turned into a cardboard cut character by most sopranos. A definitive performance indeed, and perhaps her greatest Verdi character on record. Gabriele Adorno is played by the youthful Jose Carreras, whose youthful, sweet tone is a refreshing change of pace among the dramatic bulls who have no business sticking their noses in a role where lyricism favors dramatic weight. I would say that he and Carlo Bergonzi are the greatest exponents of this short yet elegant tenor role. The roles of Paolo and Fiesco are taken respectively by Jose Van Dam and Nicolai Ghiaurov, two of the greatest low male voices in the history of opera. Nicolai Ghiaurov gives a searingly noble characterization of Fiesco, much like the grand portrayal he gave of King Filippo II in Don Carlo. I would say that he and Ferruccio Furlanetto are the only basses to have given so much insight to this role.

In addition to all those amazing singers, I believe that the reason to get this recording is to listen to the Doge of Piero Cappuccilli. There is no doubt that he was one of the greatest Verdi baritones of a bygone era, and in perspective with his Amonasros, Rodigros, di Lunas, and Iagos, there is perhaps no greater assumption of this role than what Cappuccilli has to offer. There is a nobility, a compassion, and a elegiac quality to his singing that elevates his Boccanegra to a definitive status. Without a doubt, one of the greatest characterizations in his long career.

My verdict? This is the best recording of the opera that you will find in the market, so I hope you don't waste a chance to grab it.

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Rating: - Filler
A little too patriarchal for me. Anyway Rigoletto is much the better opera. The father figure is much more simpatico because of his physical handicap, and humiliating career choice.
I just got this opera because a) I needed to fill out the order of the useless Bodum glass beaker replacement part I got with it, so I could get the free shipping,and b) I liked the sound of the name Simon Bocanegra