The ambition of Gramophone
companies in the first decade and a
half of the twentieth century was far
more formidable than one might suppose
from the scattered evidence that remains.
French Pathé for example conceived
the idea of recording a series of operas
and plays in 1911, complete – not excerpts.
This was a Herculean task given the
technology and an exceptionally risky
one given the potential financial return.
Luckily for us, though not necessarily
for Pathé’s shareholders, artistic
vision triumphed over commercial prudence.
The series was, predictably, a failure
in monetary terms but posterity has
recouped the advantage in the preservation
of many distinguished but perhaps second-string
French operatic personalities, whose
avenues for recording were otherwise
fairly limited.
That’s the background
for this Malibran double of Carmen.
Not only that but it’s one of the least
well known and documented of the recordings
of the work, and much less well remembered
than the earlier 1908 G & T set
headed by Czech legend Emmy Destinn
(or Destinnová when at home in
Prague after the First War). Here the
cast centres on native French talent
led by Marguerite Mérentié
who had made her debut at twenty-five
in 1905. She was equally at home with
the French, the Italian (Verdi) and
the Wagnerian (Isolde, Brünnhilde
in Die Walküre) repertoires and
made her debut in Carmen in 1909 partnered
by the distinguished Edmond Clément.
During the course of her career she
created a number of roles in works by
Massenet, Saint-Saëns and Gailhard
and did make solo recordings for Pathé
and for G & T, all before the First
War. Her Don José is Agustarello
Affre, the best known member of the
cast and one for whom the description
‘second string’ certainly doesn’t apply.
But Affre, born in 1858, was now fifty-one
and his technique had taken a bit of
a battering. He had a long career behind
him – a debut at the capital’s Opera
in 1890 opposite Melba (not a bad start)
was followed by visits to Covent Garden,
the San Francisco opera, New Orleans
and less exotic locations closer to
home. His place in the Parisian hierarchy
was mirrored in his discography with
companies competing to get him into
their studios, so we are fortunate that
a relatively large chunk of Affre is
on disc.
They were joined by
Henri Albers, a truly splendid Dutch-born
baritone. Younger than Affre, he was
born in 1866, and enjoyed a distinguished
career taking him as far as the Met
in New York, even though he was not
retained there following his initial
appearances. Like Affre he too went
to San Francisco and New Orleans but
he also starred in Vienna, Milan, Berlin,
Leipzig and Monte Carlo so he was a
well-established singer of high repute
in 1911 though his career was certainly
on the wane (he died in 1925).
For a 1911 Pathé
(notorious for the variable quality
of their records) the sound is really
not too off-putting. The band is small
and sounds to be heavily orientated
towards brass and wind; string players
sound few. The chorus is necessarily
small, invariably so, given the circumstances
of the acoustic recording. As a performance
it rises to the level of creditable
drama, no easy matter in 1911. Act I’s
Mais nous ne voyons is a well-judged
crowd scene and the balance between
band and singers is excellently judged.
This recording is notable for containing
what I believe to be the only pre-1950
example of the complete dialogue though
I doubt that all the singers spoke it.
It sounds strongly to me as if actors
replaced the leads, if not the others,
hardly a unique situation even much
later in recording history. Of the central
roles Mérentié proves
to have a real instinct for the dramatic.
She has a strong, dark voice, rather
too matronly perhaps but full of character
and with good breath control (though
she has problems in Act II’s Je vais
danser). Affre doesn’t have an especially
beautiful voice and he is inclined to
bellow a bit – it’s no laser-focused
tenor. He’s taxed high in the tessitura
and the sense of strain is palpable
– but against that he’s an unambiguously
proud Don José, responsive and
a real stage animal. Albers still retained
that attractive timbre though his vibrato
was now rather oscillatory and it had
begun to compromise his legato. Conductor
François Ruhlmann, an old studio
hand, keeps things moving forward, though
the brass band effect can sometimes
hinder rapidity of articulation in the
orchestral passages. Three arias made
by Mérentié for Pathé
and G & T complete the set. There’s
a deal of swish on the G & T but
in compensation the voice is happily
forwardly recorded.
Pitching sounds to
be well judged and the copies used are
quiet. No transfer engineer or process
is noted and there are no notes. This
1911 recording has appeared on Marston
in recent years, a set I’ve not heard,
so one would need to compare transfers
and to weigh up the advantage of their
booklet notes, which in my experience
are usually exemplary.
Jonathan Woolf
Choir and Orchestra of the Opéra-Comique/François
Ruhlmann