Stina-Britta Melander, 
                    born in 1924, has been blessed with an unusually long career, 
                    especially for a high lyrical soprano. To readers in the English-speaking 
                    world she may not be a household name, but older opera lovers 
                    in Germany and Austria will surely remember her. It was there 
                    that in large part she achieved her greatest triumphs 1958–1973. 
                    She recalls in her personal and charming liner-notes that 
                    when she made her German debut as Violetta in La traviata 
                    in Wiesbaden she had 52(!) curtain calls. This period is well 
                    documented on an earlier double CD, released a couple of years 
                    ago by Talking Music (TALKCD1030), which draws on material 
                    from a couple of complete CD operas, radio recordings and 
                    live performances where we hear her in company with singers 
                    like Rudolf Schock and Fritz Wunderlich. 
                  The present well-filled 
                    set casts its net wider and roughly covers her activities 
                    in Sweden. Its starting point is her first test record for 
                    His Master’s Voice back in 1938 where, with a voice that of 
                    course has no operatic dimensions but has a lightness and 
                    freshness that she preserved all through her career, the 14-year-old 
                    girl asks “Varför skall man tvinga mig att sjunga?” (“Why 
                    are they forcing me to sing?”). With hindsight it seems a 
                    superfluous question; she takes as naturally to singing as 
                    a horse to water - strange metaphor, but having grown up on 
                    a little farm in central Sweden, I know horses’ capacity to 
                    consume water whenever they get an opportunity. This early 
                    she had already that fast vibrato, the easy high notes and 
                    an aptness for coloratura that were always her hallmarks, 
                    although still in embryo. Since the programme is presented 
                    strictly chronologically, it is easy to follow her development. 
                  
                  Four years later, 
                    singing “14 år tror jag visst att jag var” (”14 years I believe 
                    I was”) on a commercial 78 rpm record, the voice is more evenly 
                    produced and the coloratura is spot-on. The song, by the way, 
                    was once made famous by 19th century Swedish diva 
                    Christina Nilsson. Illusion, a fairly vapid “schlager” 
                    the term in general use for a popular song, to my surprise 
                    turned out to have been one of the most frequently played 
                    records in 1944, according to Swedish Radio, staying for 17 
                    weeks at the top of the list of best-sellers.
                  The live recording 
                    from the Stockholm Opera of Un ballo in maschera from 
                    her debut year 1946, shows her as the page Oscar (or Otto) 
                    as a fully-fledged young coloratura soprano, lively, agile 
                    with absolutely clean runs. After a pert Papagena, in duet 
                    with the sonorous Hugo Hasslo there is a leap of seven years 
                    that brings us to the mature artist, singing the Queen of 
                    the Night’s two hilarious arias, for once in Icelandic, which 
                    really doesn’t matter, since the text is ruminative anyway 
                    up in those stratospheric regions, whatever language is used. 
                    Some suspect intonation apart, these are good renditions of 
                    both arias, the second being quite forceful, as befits the 
                    evil woman. 
                  The sound quality 
                    is variable on these early recordings. But the operetta sides, 
                    made I suppose for Swedish Radio, show a marked improvement. 
                    That is a definitive asset for the French duets with the charming 
                    Gösta Kjellertz, conducted by Albert Wolff, no less.
                  A high spot is 
                    the aria from Don Pasquale, recorded in 1959 and sung 
                    in Italian where her Norina is witty and alluring – and her 
                    trill is excellent! Even better is her Violetta, sung in German 
                    in a 1960 recording. She has that tone of vulnerability that 
                    makes one feel pity for her from the outset. The slightly 
                    fluttery tone and deep involvement recalls my first LP - Violetta, 
                    Elena Todeschi on Concert Hall; a recording that was the trigger 
                    for my interest in opera in the early 1960s. In between these 
                    two arias we hear a central scene from Orphée aux Enfèrs, 
                    where she is partnered by the excellent character tenor Sven 
                    Erik Vikström, who on stage also was able to play Orphée’s 
                    violin solo. 
                  The final tracks 
                    of CD 1 present two Swedish opera rarities. Franz Berwald 
                    nurtured an unrequited love for opera. The operetta Jag 
                    går i kloster (I go to a nunnery), completed in October 
                    1842, was staged in Stockholm and ran for six performances 
                    with that other legendary soprano, Jenny Lind. It is pretty 
                    music, with folksy atmosphere, which would be interesting 
                    to hear revived some day. Britta-Stina Melander sings it simply 
                    and beautifully and in the duet “Låt mig vara ifred” (“Let 
                    me be alone”) we also hear bass-baritone Erik Saedén, born 
                    the same year as Melander and still singing. As a matter of 
                    fact, as I write this at about 8 p.m. on 20 December 2005 
                    he is singing the part of Geronte in Manon Lescaut at 
                    the Royal Opera in Stockholm. As can be heard on this 44-year-old 
                    excerpt, few can challenge him when it comes to articulation 
                    of the text. The other work is Hilding Rosenberg’s Lycksalighetens 
                    ö (Isle of Bliss), a big romantic opera, written 
                    and premiered during WW2 and regarded as one of the few really 
                    important Swedish operas. Melander’s singing of Zephyr’s aria 
                    shows that this could also have been an international success. 
                    And it still can. I strongly recommend the complete live recording 
                    from the Norrland Opera, which I reviewed some time ago and 
                    also made one of my Recordings of the Year (see review).
                  Apart from a lovely 
                    rendering of Mimi’s aria from La bohéme, again sung 
                    in German, CD 2 mainly covers songs with piano and to a great 
                    extent from the last part of her career. After a lively duet 
                    with a William Claussen on top form and two of Canteloube’s 
                    most well-known Chants d’Auvergne in spirited performances 
                    we find her in the period after her German sojourn. Past 50 
                    and nominally past her best in terms of lyrical soprano singing, 
                    it is still difficult to find any signs of deterioration. 
                    There is no widening of vibrato, there is no discernible hardening 
                    of tone, only that hard-to-define feeling that this is a singer 
                    who has been active for quite some time, which has given her 
                    even greater confidence and deeper insight. There is a likeness 
                    to Erna Berger, another light coloratura who retained her 
                    girlish timbre and lightness and became an excellent interpreter 
                    of German Lieder during her Indian Summer in the 1950s. 
                    Exquisitely accompanied by “Sweden’s Gerald Moore”, Jan Eyron, 
                    she moulds the Reger songs in a way that makes one wonder 
                    why they are not heard more often. Du meines Herzens Krönelein 
                    is more readily associated with Richard Strauss, who is here 
                    represented by the equilibristic Amor. Her technically 
                    assured singing made me think that she must have been a perfect 
                    Zerbinetta in Ariadne auf Naxos. A quick 
                    check with Stina-Britta revealed that: “Certainly, I sang 
                    it at the ”second premiere” at the Deutsche Oper in Berlin 
                    in the 60s with Silvio Varviso conducting, Lisa Della Casa 
                    and the recently deceased tenor James King. Among coloratura 
                    parts Zerbinetta was my favourite role.” I would certainly 
                    have loved to hear her in Grossmächtige Prinzessin!
                  Fritz Arlberg 
                    and Isidor Dannström were two important Swedish singers during 
                    the 19th century. The quite simple “folksy” songs 
                    presented here, sung with disarming simplicity – “art concealing 
                    art” – are interesting for being dedicated to the two greatest 
                    Swedish international sopranos during the period, Christina 
                    Nilsson and Sigrid Arnoldsson. The former left no recorded 
                    evidence of her art, although there have always been rumours 
                    about some early cylinders, but obviously they have never 
                    surfaced. The latter (1861 – 1943) made several records when 
                    still in her prime, some of which I have heard. The primitive 
                    sound on recordings made before WW1 was always more devastating 
                    to the female voice than to the male, so it is not easy to 
                    know exactly what she must have sounded like “in the flesh”, 
                    but it seems that Melander, approaching the age of 60, could 
                    still challenge her.
                  The two Debussy 
                    songs, again with Eyron at the piano, are light and elegant, 
                    and “Hear ye, Israel” from Elijah, rather distantly 
                    recorded in the vast St. Clara Church in central Stockholm 
                    in 1987, rings out impressively.
                  At the age of 
                    70 she returned to the opera stage for a few performances 
                    of Eugene Onegin in a MusikiDalarna (Music in the province 
                    of Dalecarlia) production. For the first and, to my knowledge, 
                    only time Monsieur Triquet’s part was sung by a soprano, but 
                    not actually as a trouser-role; Melander was instead an utterly 
                    charming Madame Triquet. I saw one of the performances 
                    and enjoyed it greatly. Here was an old stager who knew all 
                    the tricks how to steal the show, both visually and aurally. 
                    I believe that is possible to hear all this on this recording, 
                    even without the experience of having seen her. It is true 
                    that the voice has begun to thin out – but remarkably little. 
                    What is even more remarkable to hear is her “reprise” of 14 
                    år tror jag visst att jag var, recorded at her 80-years-concert 
                    a year ago. It’s a frail voice but it still retains its girlish 
                    timbre and there is very little trace of a widening of the 
                    vibrato – she even has her coloratura in fine fettle.
                  There is a quite 
                    substantial bonus in the shape of a set of charming French 
                    18th century shepherds’ songs, charmingly performed 
                    in 1959. Having played the CDs straight through one has her 
                    voice of 45 years ago fresh in the memory. Lovely!
                  The sound is, 
                    as I have already mentioned, variable; quite a number of the 
                    titles on CD 2 are private recordings, but as whole it is 
                    all quite acceptable. The booklet is adorned with photographs 
                    of her stage-roles and a charming colour photo from October 
                    2004 with Dolly: no, it’s not a cloned sheep, it’s a highly 
                    individual and cute dog.
                  Jussi Björling, 
                    who noticed her stage-nerves at a performance of Faust, 
                    said to her: “Don’t worry, girl, you sing well, just keep 
                    on doing it and you will became a great singer”. Beniamino 
                    Gigli, who heard her as Butterfly in 1954, sent her a letter 
                    where he recommended her to study for a couple of months with 
                    Toti dal Monte: “then you will become an opera singer that 
                    the world will hear about”. Both Björling and Gigli can’t 
                    have been wrong, can they? – and here is evidence aplenty 
                    that they weren’t. For newcomers to Stina-Britta Melander 
                    it may be advisable to buy the earlier double-CD first and 
                    hear her in all her glory at the height of her powers, mainly, 
                    in the 1960s. For a more all-embracing portrait this second 
                    album is also a treasure-trove. 
                  Göran Forsling