The fourth complete Butterfly was the last pre-war 
          recording of the opera. It dated from July 1939 and is still one of 
          the most convincing. Unlike its predecessors this recording strives 
          for a complex dramatic narration of Cio-Cio-San’s tragedy. Toti Dal 
          Monte‘s portrait of the fifteen year old Japanese girl who marries the 
          American Lieutenant B. F. Pinkerton and her naive belief in his love 
          which will finally bring her to suicide, has electrified generations 
          of opera lovers down the decades. This is a legendary recording, which 
          has set standards not only in vocal quality, but also in interpretation. 
        
 
        
Astonishingly this is the only recording of Beniamino 
          Gigli singing the music of Butterfly. Unlike most of his other 
          operatic roles, from which he recorded at least the main arias in extra 
          sessions, his Pinkerton has only been preserved through the recording 
          sessions of July 1939. He starts with youthful naturalness and brilliance 
          ("Amore o grillo") in the opening scene and with a charming 
          honey-sweet timbre, coloured with the flame of youth and the lyricism 
          of poesy in the great Act One duet with Dal Monte. His "Addio, 
          fiorito asil" is a wonderful example of forceful phrasing and organic 
          legato singing. It arises out of the melody. Gigli, being almost fifty 
          years old, when this recording was made, was still in splendid shape, 
          able to draw a character only with slight variations in the timbre of 
          his voice, from the shades of his mezza voce in Act One to the 
          dynamic outbursts of his gorgeous secure intonation in the last act. 
        
 
        
Toti Dal Monte’s Butterfly has become famous for her 
          girlish characterisation. Consequently she uses her voice to bring out 
          the naive and innocent side of Cio-Cio-San. Though this is not free 
          of artificial moments, her voice control is nothing less than brilliant. 
          And the stressing of a naturalistic interpretation of Butterfly as a 
          young girl is never at the cost of the beauty of her voice. Butterfly 
          has been, together with Mimi in Puccini‘s La Bohème, a 
          milestone in Dal Monte’s career, who had started as a coloratura soprano. 
          From today’s point of view - with experience of the great 20th-century 
          Butterflys like Callas, Tebaldi, Oliviero or Freni - her lyric timbre 
          may seem a bit too light, and her voice is not as profound in the suicide 
          scene as the pathos of the music requires. Her conception of the character 
          comes from another tradition - a turn-of-the-19th-century 
          tradition where the boundary between the ‘lyric Fach’ and the ‘dramatic 
          Fach’ had not yet developed. Accordingly she follows and counteracts 
          the harmonic, timbral and rhythmic elements in the orchestration with 
          the magnificent floating simplicity of her splendid soprano. Interaction 
          instead of dramatic self-representation makes this portrait moving and 
          convincing. 
        
 
        
Oliviero de Fabritiis and the forces of the Rome Opera 
          House join her in that concept. The orchestra always has equal rights 
          to comment on the love and the tragedy. There is none of the highlighting 
          of drama and passion we are used to from Karajan or Sinopoli. De Fabritiis 
          avoids the pathos wherever possible and emphasises the naturalism of 
          the story. The range from almost impressionistic colours (humming chorus 
          and act two interlude) to harsh dramatic emotions (final scene) is full 
          of surprises. 
        
 
        
It is to the credit of Ward Marston, one of the most 
          celebrated producers and engineers of historic recordings, that this 
          Naxos set has such a transparent and warm sound. Notably the source 
          for this edition was an RCA Victor shellac pressing, and not the usual 
          HMV counterpart. The outcome is brilliant. This recording has not been 
          over processed, like so many other re-issues today, but has retained 
          its wonderful strong and deep sonic clarity. A slight trace of hiss 
          remains, but does not disturb the joy of hearing this centenary recording. 
        
 
        
The 2CD set is filled out with eight solo recordings 
          of Toti dal Monte. These date from 1928 to 1941. Considering her popularity 
          she made relatively few recordings, only some 50 all in all. While the 
          three opening arias (from Donizetti and Bellini) present her as the 
          world-famed lyric coloratura soprano from the 1920s and early 1930s, 
          the following two pieces (by Verdi and Mascagni) show her long, lovely, 
          legato lines and her sensitive phrasing. The last three selections (songs 
          by Bianchini and Sadero) illustrate her instinctive musicality and feeling 
          for intimate interpretations. 
        
 
        
With Toti Del Monte’s art of singing we have documents 
          of the first – unconscious - attempts at a new way of interpretations, 
          away from the art-pour-art bel canto of the 19th century; 
          her Butterfly might be the first recording in this sense. 
        
 
        
Uwe Schneider