Salomea Krushelnytska (1872-1952) and Elena Ruszkowska (1877?-1948) were among the more prominent Polish/Ukranian singers acclaimed in Russian and Italian opera houses a century ago. This valuable Marston release includes Krushelnytska’s complete output, while the bakers’ dozen of Ruszkowska selections includes some of her finest recordings, including a 1909 “Inflammatus” from Rossini’s Stabat Mater, rightly admired for her dramatic rendition and brilliant high notes. That she wasn’t just a belter is confirmed by a rather rough “Ernani involami” that nevertheless features some magnificent trills and a luscious decrescendo to pianissimo. Sometimes the recording horn exaggerates her vibrato, but that’s a minor drawback, as is the presence of supporting ensemble singers who were probably dragged in off the street to shout their parts.
Mention also must be made of Ruszkowska’s Puccini recordings, especially a “Vissi d’arte” notable for the beauty of the voice, her luminous high notes, and touching phrasing enlivened by varied dynamics and rubato. On a similar level of excellence is her 1921 disc of “I wish I were a lark” from Moniuszko’s Halka, made unforgettable by her expansive phrasing and lustrous voice.
Where Ruszkowska’s selections are duplicated by Krushelnytska, I find myself preferring the former, good as the latter’s are. The differences lie primarily in what I hear as a more compelling voice and phrase-shaping that strikes me as more emotionally powerful. But this is a minority view, and comparisons are invidious with artists of this caliber.
Krushelnytska recorded 18 songs and arias in 1902 and 1906, all accompanied by piano. Not until her 1907 sessions was she backed by the reduced orchestras that oom-pah-ed their way through the early acoustic era. Despite those limitations there’s much to enjoy. Songs by Paderewski, Mlynarski, Tosti, and Quaranta, the latter’s “Lasciali dir tu m’ami” made into a powerful dramatic scena, find her at her most moving.
Arias include roles from Brünnhilde (a rousing “Ho-jo-to-ho!” and a touching excerpt from “War es so schmählich” sung in Italian) to Butterfly to Wally, whose “Ebben? Ne andrò lontana” opens with a captivatingly darkened voice that captures the heroine’s fragility. Krushelnytska’s final sessions in 1928 were her only ones from the electrical era–a quartet of Ukranian folk songs with a folk ensemble. At 56 the voice was still in good shape, clearly older but with a fresh-sounding top.
Ward Marston’s transfers of such ancient material continue to impress. Not only are the voices fuller and more colorful than anyone has a right to expect from the limited technology available to the original engineers, but even the piano accompaniments have tonal integrity, a rarity in transfers from such early 78s. [3/19/2007]
