We’ve all seen these
sorts of compilations many times, and it’s pretty obvious what
market they’re aimed at. They tend to make good Christmas presents
for your mum or Classic FM newcomers to this sort of repertoire,
cheap and cheerful, with a string of good tunes. This one is
better than some, with a generally excellent selection of arias
and, it’s fair to say, most of the very greatest tenor voices
of the last forty years represented. It’s been available before,
but is now repackaged and with a few additions. Whether you
agree with who’s in and who’s out will be very personal, and
of course they’re only from the EMI catalogue so some of these
same artists’ classic versions for other labels, notably Decca
and RCA, are absent. Still, I had few complaints regarding music
and performances, so here are a few of my own highlights.
As the disc opens
with Alfredo Kraus, let’s start there. He was a natural for
the Duke in Rigoletto, suave, stylish and oozing charm
from every pore. I believe he recorded the complete opera at
least four times and individual arias on a number of compilation
albums. This comes from 1979, so the voice is not quite as fresh
as it was for Solti in 1963, a set I still swear by. You can
compare the younger Kraus in Böhm’s blue chip classic Cosi
recording from that very same year, where Mozart’s line simply
floats effortlessly. The Donizetti is from over twenty later,
edging towards the end of his career, but he never could really
sing badly, it’s just the upper tessitura that shows a tad more
strain and spread of vibrato.
It’s also good to
hear another supreme stylist, Nicolai Gedda in his best sort
of repertoire. The Lehar extracts are delectable, and I particularly
love Boskovsky’s witty, echt-Viennese accompaniment in the famous
Paganini extract. I suppose Bjoerling fans may wonder
why his Rodolfo is not here, but Gedda’s superb ‘Che gelida
manina’ can stand comparison with any, as can Schippers’ subtle
orchestral backing.
Considering what’s
happened to José Carreras, it’s nice to be reminded of just
how good he was in his prime. I always liked the Karajan 1980
Aida, and Carreras’s ‘Celeste Aida’ is intelligent and
well phrased, but his virile Turiddu in Cav from the
same year is even better, and this version often comes out top
in surveys, especially for Muti’s red-blooded conducting. Carreras
also gets the ‘Nessun dorma’ that inevitably ends the disc,
and while it’s OK, for me a number of the other tenors in this
one would have been preferable, though it’s worth pointing out
that some critics have felt Lombard’s rather stiff conducting
marred this Turandot and prevented the cast from giving of their
best.
My favourite lyric
tenor, Fritz Wunderlich, gets one aria, the German version of
‘M’appari’, and wonderful it is too. What a supreme legato phrasing
he had and like many others opera lovers, not many days go by
when I don’t lament his premature passing.
Domingo recorded
the role of Cavaradossi in Tosca three times (with Mehta,
Levine and Sinopoli) but this ‘Recondita armonia’ is a bit lacklustre,
a feeling highlighted by the inclusion of Bergonzi’s marvellous
‘E lucevan le stelle’, showing how it should be done. Like many
other artists here, Domingo is incapable of really bad singing,
but his best stuff was probably for other labels. He is far
more engaging in the one piece Rudolf Sieczynski is known for,
‘Vienna, City of my Dreams’ a chunk of pure nostalgia written
as Europe descended into chaos in 1914.
As I said above,
one might regret the omission of extracts from Bjoerling’s classic
Beecham Boheme, especially as his Butterfly wasn’t
as good. Still, the voice is glorious even if the interpretation
of Pinkerton was a little bland, at least for my taste.
It’s good to hear
Pavarotti in 1968 vintage and realize what all the fuss was
about. This L’amico Fritz was his first studio recording,
and I can hardly imagine this aria being sung better, though
the Covent Garden chorus is fairly consistently flat. He’s also
good in the ‘Ingemisco’ from Muti’s live 1987 Verdi Requiem,
even if I prefer his earlier 1967 Decca assumption with Solti.
It’s also a pleasure
to hear de Stefano singing as to the manner born in the Neapolitan
songs, and Jon Vickers’ rather gritty toned Don José making
sure he ends his ‘Flower Song’ piano instead of belting
out the final rising cadence. Talking of ‘can belto’, who better
than Franco Corelli to show us how it should be done in a rousing
‘Di quella pira’, again with the much-missed Thomas Schippers
providing taut orchestral accompaniment.
The cleaned up recordings
range from very good to OK, with some of the earlier ones showing
congestion and hints of distortion on the high notes. Some extracts
were recorded as such with ‘concert’ endings, and some fade rather
crudely from complete recordings. The last item, ‘Nessun dorma’
jumps from Carreras’s ending to Alfano’s choral ending from the
full opera, again rather ham-fistedly. The flimsy booklet simply
lists the arias and gives the briefest description of where it
fits in the opera. Still, this dirt cheap collection is what it
is, and there’s some obvious enjoyment to be had from sampling
so many potboilers and so many great voices. Oh, and if you’re
wondering who’s on the cover painting, apparently it’s Spanish
tenor Florenco Constantino dressed for the part of Verdi’s Ernani
around 1910.
Tony Haywood
Luciano Pavarotti
(ten); Orchestra of La Scala, Milan/Riccardo Muti (rec.1987) 
