It would be interesting to know, purely from the standpoint of understanding pathological phenomena, what (if any) criteria were used to choose the selections on many of the discs in Decca’s wildly uneven The Singers series. In reviewing the disc devoted to Mario del Monaco, for example, I found myself typing in the names of Herbert von Karajan and Mantovani, one after the other, in ClassicsToday’s review submission box devoted to a disc’s conductors–something I never dreamed I’d ever have the opportunity (or misfortune) to do. Now, this George London disc raises bewilderment to a degree that convinces me of the unlikelihood of rational explanations. A bit more than half the disc is devoted to Wagner; the rest to Broadway show tunes. Wotan’s Leb’wohl scene–all 17-plus minutes of it–is immediately followed by “Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin'”, Rodgers and Hammerstein’s hit song from Oklahoma.
Profoundly puzzled, I asked myself: “Why?” Three possibilities present themselves. One, today’s relativism sees equivalency among different art forms, including parity between Wagner opera and Eisenhower-era Broadway shows, thus justifying joining them at the hip. Well, even a snob will admit that Rodgers and Hammerstein were as important in their field as Wagner was in his and that they created some lovely music. But surely some forms of art aspire to, and through their greater ambition, complexity, and depth, attain higher stature than others, if not superiority in their ability to deliver enjoyment and pleasure.
A second possibility is commercial, that the presence of more popular material will help sell more copies of the disc. But surely Wagnerians will shy away from a disc with nine tracks of Broadway songs and four of Wagner. And the Broadway musical fans aren’t likely to thirst for doomed Dutchmen or failed gods when pursuing surreys with fringes on top. To each his own, I say, though Decca’s marketing people say “put ’em all in one pot.”
A third possibility is that since London was a skilled exponent of both opera and Broadway musicals a disc devoted to his mixing the two on one program makes sense. Maybe, but not much sense. Not when the alternative would be to pick a few songs as encores and use the additional space for his dashing Don Giovanni, his menacing Count Almaviva, or his tortured Tsar Boris. So for me, and perhaps for you, almost half of this disc is a waste. I listened to the songs, even liked some despite the crude orchestrations, and admired London’s way with them. But now that duty has been served, I won’t be listening to them again.
The Wagner arias are a different matter. London’s dark bass-baritone was a quality instrument, used with great power, a keen dramatic sense, and deep emotional involvement. The Flying Dutchman’s monologue, Die Frist ist um, which opens the disc, exemplifies those characteristics. Here, in a 1958 recording, London sounds more involved and in better vocal condition than in his complete recording of the opera made three years later with Dorati. In the two Meistersinger excerpts, the “Flieder” and “Wahn” monologues, his voice lacks sufficient warmth to create a believable Hans Sachs; while best at conveying a sense of dark menace, he’s a bit too insistent and the voice too grainy. Wotan’s Leb’ wohl shares those faults as well, and adds throaty vowels that may have been left over from a Boris Godunov date; but it’s sung with such power that your doubts are easily set aside. This is one angry god, but a little more of the regretful father would have been welcome.
All of the Wagner tracks get a boost from Hans Knappertsbusch’s authoritative conducting, the Vienna Philharmonic’s echt-Wagnerian playing, and Decca’s outstanding early stereo engineering. The rating above applies only to the Wagner items; for the rest, I’ll abdicate judgment since my appreciation of London’s singing in this repertoire is tempered by my indifference to the music and my discomfort with operatic voices in it. Texts and translations are accessible only through your computer’s CD drive.
