Forget about spotted owls–Verdi baritones are today’s prime endangered species. Preiser’s CD of 21 selections made from 1906 to 1948 is a gloriously sung collection of the art of the Verdi baritone and a demonstration of how far we’ve plummeted from the standards of an earlier era. Lest this seem like antiquarian ranting, just listen to virtually any of the tracks on this disc. You’ll hear voices with attributes that merit the label “Verdi baritone”–idiomatic style, comfort with the high tessitura of Verdi’s writing, bright, forward high notes, solid technique that enables singing through the break, and the depth of tone to convincingly portray the fathers, noblemen, and villains that are the lot of operatic baritones. Then try to recall when you last heard a singer that fits the profile in a Verdi opera. Finally, for a major exercise in Verdian despair, realize that while we strain to name one, just one current singer of this caliber, 11 baritones on this CD were active at the same time in the 1920s.
That’s not to deny the polish and schooling of our contemporaries, or the rectitude that, to take but one example, Thomas Hampson brought to his recent Verdi aria album. But a Verdi aria without Italianate color to the voice, freedom of rubato to the phrasing, powerful high notes, and a seamless legato line is Verdi stripped of style and context. Nor must the singer be Italian to possess those attributes: one of the instructive joys of this CD is the realization that some of the most compelling items are sung by foreigners in their native languages. Listen, for example, to Joseph Schwarz, star of the court operas in Vienna and Berlin, whose 1916 recording in German of “Alla vita che t’arride” from Un Ballo in Maschera, with its stunning diminuendo and firm legato line, illustrates bel canto singing allied to Verdian style. Another German, Heinrich Schlusnus, brings similar qualities to “In braccio alle dovizie” from I Vespri Siciliani–a powerful top and perfect diction (alas, also in German). And the last track is a magnificent “Il balen” from Il Trovatore seamlessly sung (in Russian) by Pavel Lisitsian.
The usual suspects are also here, beginning with Victor Maurel (a Frenchman) in a Falstaff snippet and continuing with Mattia Battistini’s 1906 Ernani aria in a style that even then was a throwback to the days when notes on the page were mere guidelines–yet it’s so gorgeously done that any literalist would have to smile with pleasure. There are examples of the great voices and art of the likes of Tita Ruffo, Giuseppe De Luca, and Riccardo Stracciari, among those you’d expect to find in such a compilation. But there are plenty of surprises as well: Carlo Tagliabue, often thought a merely serviceable singer from records made late in his long career, contributes a sterling 1941 La Forza aria, and Cesare Formichi, Benvenuto Franci, and Enrico Molinari, now familiar only to specialists, would on the evidence of their selections here be top-drawer stars today.
Incidentally, Preiser tells us that Franci’s 1929 Aida excerpt was recorded by His Mater’s Voice [sic], exemplifying the joys to be found in reading the small print. Another unintended pleasure of compilation discs is the opportunity for quibbling–why this baritone was selected and not that one, or why this selection when he did that one much better. I played that game myself, wondering why Stracciari was represented by a very fine “O de’verd’ anni miei” from Ernani when Mario Ancona’s recording of that aria is perfection itself. But there’s ample compensation in Ancona’s oily “Era la notte” from Otello. Transfers are fine on this irresistible CD.
