Album Review: Gala Re-Opening of La Scala, May 11, 1946
If you’re into classical music or just curious about opera’s golden age, this album is a gem. It’s not your typical polished studio recording—it’s more like stepping back in time to one of the most iconic nights in music history. The album captures the re-opening gala of La Scala, conducted by none other than Arturo Toscanini, with the Chorus and Orchestra of La Scala backing him up. It’s raw, it’s real, and honestly? It’s kind of magical.
The album kicks off strong with Nabucco - Overture. You’ve probably heard bits of this before—it’s dramatic, bold, and feels like it could soundtrack an epic movie scene. But what makes this version unforgettable is how alive it feels. You can almost picture the audience leaning forward in their seats, holding their breath as the orchestra dives into those sweeping strings and brass blasts. Toscanini’s energy is all over this track; he doesn’t just conduct—he commands. There’s a sense of urgency here that modern recordings sometimes lack, like every note matters because they’re rebuilding something after the war. Heavy stuff, but also super cool.
Another standout for me is Manon Lescaut - Act 3 (Part 2). This part gives me goosebumps every single time. Puccini really knew how to write heartbreak, didn’t he? The way the orchestra swells under the chorus... it’s devastatingly beautiful. And let’s be honest, hearing these legendary voices from 1946 adds a layer of nostalgia that hits different. It’s like listening to history breathe. I mean, sure, the audio quality isn’t perfect (it’s nearly 80 years old!), but that imperfection makes it feel even more human. Weirdly enough, it reminds me of those old family tapes people used to make—scratchy and imperfect, yet full of soul.
What strikes me about this whole album is how much it feels like a celebration—not just of music, but of resilience. After everything Europe went through during WWII, reopening La Scala must’ve felt like reclaiming a piece of hope. Toscanini himself was this larger-than-life figure who refused to bow to fascism, so having him lead this concert feels symbolic in a way words can’t fully capture.
And here’s the unexpected part: while I was writing this review, I realized how rare it is to connect so deeply with performers who lived decades before I was born. Like, imagine sitting in that crowd, still wearing patched-up clothes from the war, and hearing “Overture” blast through the theater. Goosebumps city. So yeah, if you’re looking for background music while folding laundry, this might not be it. But if you want something that’ll stick with you long after the last note fades, give this one a spin. Trust me, it’s worth it.
