Confronted by the third
volume of the Naxos Björling series
my natural reaction is to hold up my
hands in simple admiration and refer
readers to my reviews of the first two.
Such beauty of tone and expressive freedom
did tend to be taken for granted in
the 1950s but these earlier discs show
just how and why he was so admired and
why the promise of his post-1929 sides
was only to be exceeded by the glorious
reality of his more mature recordings.
And such we have here, dating from 1936-44,
taking him to the cusp of international
stardom and beyond (Vienna in 1936,
London in 1937 and a New York Met debut
in 1938).
The earlier slight
cover in the voice and the occasional
phrasal gaucheries are now a thing of
the past; unforced lyricism and beauty
of tone reign supreme. His Che gelida
manina is splendid, eloquent
throughout the scale – though if anything
Celeste Aida is even finer, with
mezza voce, light and shade and real
projective power. Subtle portamanti
adorn La donna è mobile
and in Ch’ella mi creda libero
from La fanciulla del West’ we hear
his superb technique allied to equally
advanced powers of expression. O
Paridiso shows the voice in all
its youthful vigour, forward and ringing,
with an admixture of sunlight and bristle
– but the technical achievement entirely
subordinated to the musical effectiveness
of the interpretation.
He first recorded in
French in 1938 – his earliest recordings
had all been made, as was the custom,
in his native language – and we have
evidence of it here. He never sang in
Carmen or Manon on stage, though he
did sing Faust. The Massenet and Bizet
are beautifully and alluringly done,
with sustained legato and effortless
elegance. His Gounod is a relative disappointment
– rather aloof and relatively slow.
Still, listen to his duets with soprano
Hjördis Schymberg, with whom he
recorded a number of duets, and one
has to admire the sheer softness and
control of their singing – compare and
contrast with the bawling of today’s
superstars. But, yes, he has the steel
and the declamation for Giordano’s Amor
ti vieta but more importantly he
has the sensitivity of phrasing to irradiate
it from within. These are not showpiece
arias in his hands so much as fully
assumed roles that he inhabits. He doesn’t
resort to stock gestures to convey these
feelings – no sobbing or half catches
in the throat – just sure tonal beauty,
rhythmic precision and intelligence
behind them.
As before in this series
the copies used are in unsullied condition.
They allow unimpeded admiration for
this tenor titan and his continuing
sway on one’s heart.
Jonathan Woolf
see also review
by John Leeman