This is the earliest
recording of Manon, made in 1923 with
a strong cast under the very fluent
conductor Henri Büsser, a future
luminary of the Opéra-Comique.
It was issued on 48 sides – 24 records
– and preserves the performance of Fanny
Heldy, the Belgian soprano who assumed
the mantle of this role for many years.
Hers is a light, very well and forwardly
projected voice. The vibrato is rigorously
centred and her core tone has a light
girlish timbre; it’s the opposite of
a heavy dramatic soprano sound and is
instead emblematic of the Franco-Belgian
tradition she so nobly upheld. Technically
she is untroubled by the demands placed
upon her; her coloratura is tremendous,
and accurate, her impersonation running
from coquettishness and flirtation to
its furthermost remove, all achieved
through subtleties of vocal inflection,
employing such expressive devices as
floated pianissimi with breathtaking
candour. One feels her absorption of
characterisation grow throughout the
recording, as it must in a convincing
portrayal, as she fuses enveloping emotionalism
and aloof sophistication with equally
plausible significance. Her Des Grieux
is Jean Marny, who partnered her on
stage in the role and he proves an apt
foil. The voice is an elegant Franco-Belgian
tenor, open but clear; like hers his
vibrato is under control, though flexibly
deployed. Indeed as does she he sounds
a young Des Grieux, ardent and true,
though with a back up of technique at
his disposal (listen to the St Suplice
scene). He also employs something that
Villabella and many other French tenors
had – Villabella was a Bilbao Basque
but his training and musical ethos was
French – and that is the voix mixte.
This is a characteristic sound,
a fusion of floated head voice mixed
with a falsetto. I don’t think his was
quite the equal of Villabella’s – whose
breath control and sustain are remarkable
– but Marny employs it with greater
musical discretion and sense of narrative
implications. His dream aria is certainly
evocative and moving and he uses this
kind of voice production throughout.
Lescaut is Léon
Ponzio and he is always a characterful
singer, the epitome of engagement. Whenever
I listen to him I’m aware that his vibrato
sometimes widens – it contrasts with
Marny and Heldy’s certainly – but it
does add to the vocal brew of this recording.
He has that characteristically light
baritone that proves mobile and stylish.
Count des Grieux is Pierre Dupré,
a bass-baritone of calm assurance. It’s
not a particularly deep voice but it
has real flexibility and, again, character.
Obviously things are not perfect in
this Hill-and-Dale recording; the orchestra
is quite small and sports typical reinforced
basses (in the form of low brass) and
the violins do take on a slithery, reedy
quality that is one side of the French
string school (the other is sensual
elegance). And Büsser certainly
doesn’t hang around, whether through
natural inclination or through the exigencies
of a large-scale recording over 48 sides
made in a short period of time; quite
an undertaking for the time but certainly
not unique. One can hear his vitesse
as early as the second scene – Holà!
Hé, Monsieur L’Hôtelier
– which he takes at a right old
lick. Still, the copies used are in
reasonable shape and frequency response
is good. There are no notes, which is
a shame because the interest in this
set won’t, I guarantee, be confined
to French speakers. It’s an impressive
achievement, this first Manon, and in
Heldy we find an exquisite adornment
strongly second by Marny’s patrician
elegance. So, this is more than a curiosity
or discographical footnote – and it
comes highly recommended, especially
to those who might know the Germaine
Féraldy - Josef Rogatchewsky
- Elie Cohen recording of 1928-29 but
were unaware of this pioneering set.
Jonathan Woolf
Orchestra and Chorus of the Opéra-Comique/Henri
Büsser 