Erna Berger’s inclusion in Decca’s The Singers series is easily justified by her reputation if not her clear superiority to singers of her ilk–her ilk being the high, light, lyric soprano of roles such as Der Rosenkavalier’s Sophie, Don Giovanni’s Zerlina, and other pert young things. She’s best known to record collectors as the Queen of the Night in Beecham’s famous 1938 recording of The Magic Flute and Gilda in RCA’s 1950 Rigoletto opposite Leonard Warren. Here we have Decca’s collected aria and lieder recordings from Berger’s prime; everything on the disc dates from 1934 to 1944, though her Queen of the Night arias aren’t included. Berger’s voice is pure and accurate; her singing is stylish without creating much excitement. An oddity is that this artist, so well known for her soubrette roles, consistently sounds older than her choronological age on these recordings.
Warning: Berger’s thin, piping voice won’t appeal to all; it certainly doesn’t to me. But if you’re immune from such prejudices you’ll find much to enjoy here, even though the biggest thrills on this disc come from the operatic extracts where she’s partnered by Heinrich Schlusnus, one of the greatest baritones of the past century. His smooth Don Giovanni in the “La ci darem la mano” duet and his overwhelming Rigoletto in an extended excerpt that includes “Tutte le feste” and “Si, vendetta” are among the best on disc, even sung in German, as are all the non-German selections here. Berger’s “Caro nome” is neatly sung, but as in other selections it’s too cool, without the tonal depth, idiomatic fluency, or the confident coloratura to lodge in the memory. When Berger takes on heavier Italian roles she falls way short–someone should have talked her out of recording Butterfly’s “Un bel di” and “Parigi, o cara” from Traviata where her Alfredo is laid-back Julius Patzak. Traviata’s “Addio del passato” starts well but when the voice is supposed to broaden she simply hasn’t the resources to do it.
On the plus side are a fetching “Letzte Rose” from Flotow’s Martha, lovely lullabies by Brahms and Reger, and a slow but affecting “Solveig’s Song” from Grieg’s Peer Gynt. In a role that perfectly suits her, Adele in Die Fledermaus, she’s a bit too ditzy in “Spiel’ich die Unschuld vom Lande”, the humor laid on with a trowel, the voice intentionally uglified. Decca fails to match volume levels from track to track–play the first three tracks at a comfortable listening level and Heinrich Schlusnus’ baritone blasts you out of the room on track four, an annoyance repeated elsewhere on the disc, so keep your remote handy. Another annoyance common to all The Singers releases is that texts and translations are only accessed via your computer’s CD drive–i.e., they’re unavailable unless you first print them out or listen through your computer’s speakers, an inconvenient idiocy.
