The recordings in this collection cover the period between 1947 and 1958 (you have to presume that the 1981 copyrights to a Fanciulla aria and Forza aria have to do with release date and that they were recorded along with a recital of four other cuts copyrighted 1959). Charting the trouble in Giuseppe di Stefano’s voice is a small industry in opera-going circles, and this 2-CD set helps. Starting with absolute perfection in arias from Mignon, Manon, L’Arlesiana, and La traviata (from ’47), we hear a sound and delivery so absolutely natural that it makes us wonder why we can’t do it ourselves.
Phrasing–tender, ardent, sad, elated–that makes the utmost sense of the music and words, along with an ability to sing high, low, loud, soft, and all gradations in between, are completely present. And then, as we enter the 1950s when di Stefano decided to sing heavier roles, high notes (above A-flat) spread and sound bleached and the natural mezza voce loses its center–the core is gone, and we start to get sheer falsetto. Passion and involvement remain high, but the tenor begins to work very hard. Oddly, di Stefano never stops being appealing, but it’s a fascinating study.
The Lucia, Tosca, and Cavalleria excerpts are still fresh; the Butterfly threatens to give trouble; the “1981” Forza aria is terrific but the (above-mentioned) “Una parola sola” features a nasty, spreading B-flat; “Nessun dorma” closes with a throat-ripping B-natural. And so it goes. High notes, even relatively early (the end of “La donna e mobile”) are squeezed, and the big high-C at the close of “Di quella pira” (1957) sounds like a dare. Di Stefano was the most exasperating of tenors and remains so; in his case, we have to redefine “the best”. Even as the voice itself became worn, there always was the alluring caress of a tone or phrase, an enchanting sound, an ardency that made you believe. And the second-act duet from Puccini’s Manon Lescaut with Callas is almost worth the set by itself.
