Naxos Historical

Some Savoyards (a fancy name for fans and performers of Gilbert and Sullivan's several operettas) recognize the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company as the only ensemble with an authentic hold on this repertoire. It was founded in 1876 by impresario Richard D'Oyly Carte, and all of the new Gilbert and Sullivan works were premiered by it, including H.M.S. Pinafore, which premiered in the spring of 1878.

The D'Oyly Cartes recorded and re-recorded their repertoire with each improvement in the preservation of recorded sound. Prior to 1925, acoustic recordings of the operettas were made, and these were followed by electrical recordings. Then, in the late 1940s, the LP record began to supplant bulky and impractical 78s. The Pinafore preserved here was the first Gilbert and Sullivan operetta to be rerecorded for LP. The sessions took place in London's Kingway Hall in 1948, and were released shortly thereafter on London and Decca discs.

This performance (and it really does feel like a performance, not like a studio run-through) is a good example of what the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company was doing at the time, and the result is a Pinafore which is viable even today. Conductor Isidore Godfrey, who had been with the company since 1925, ensures that tradition is respected without letting the work descend into the routine. He keeps Sullivan's melodies bouncing along happily, and he gives due weight to gentle parodies of grand opera (for example, Josephine's "The hours creep on apace").

Several of the veteran Company members participate on this recording. Martyn Green brought well-trained musicality to each of his roles. His snobbish Sir Joseph Porter shows demonstrates that vocal skills are no less important than acting skills to make the role seem real. His "I Am the monarch of the Sea" is a highlight.

Leslie Rands, although well contrasted with Green, brings a similar balance of singing and characterization to Captain Corcoran. Darrell Fancourt, probably the greatest Mikado of them all, seems a little squandered as Dick Deadeye, yet he makes a strong impression with the little that he is given to do. Ella Halman's Little Buttercup also deserves a mention. She doesn't weigh the music down with her rich contralto voice, a lesson that some of her successors should have learned.

Tenor Leonard Osborn was never entirely satisfactory. (He is said to have been better to see on stage than to hear on recordings.) As long as Ralph Rackstraw is heroic or defiant, he is effective enough, but his romantic singing is quavery. Muriel Harding's Josephine also is tremulous; this is English classical singing at its least warm-blooded. (Think of Anna Russell singing her parody "Nymphs and Shepherds.")

The restoration has been effected by David Lennick. Decca's FFRR sound was a plus in 1948, and it helped to create sonics that are very listenable even today. There is some variation in the sound from number to number, a reminder of the immediate past when this recording would have been released on 78-rpm sides. (In fact, it might have been released in that format for a brief time, simultaneously with the LPs.)

Naxos includes a brief essay, a plot synopsis, and bios of Green, Rands, Osborn, and Fancourt. For Savoyards who wish to collect this particular recording, Naxos's version is inexpensive but unstinting. Even collectors who don't know Pinafore at all might do worse than to get to know it through this version. (Note that this recording, similar to most, does not include the dialogue between musical numbers.)

If you want a taste, Bogart- or Bergman-like, of Paris between the wars, Lucienne Boyer can oblige. Born in 1901, her childhood was a happy idyll enough until World War One awakened her to reality. Early in the war, her father was killed, and young Lucienne had to work in a munitions factory with her mother. It was there that her incipient talent as a performer was noted. At 16, she sang in cabarets. Not yet out of her teens, she also modeled. An office position with a prominent Parisian theater led to her big break, and by the time she was 25, she was singing in the best Parisian venues. She began to make recordings at the same time. Eighteen of them, recorded between 1926 and 1933 for French Columbia, are included in this collection.

Boyer's signature tune, "Parlez-moi d'amour", opens this disc. Recorded in 1930, it became a standard no less evocative of time and place than Charles Trenet's "La Mer", Rina Ketty's "J'attendrai," and Edith Piaf's "L'accordeoniste." It is a gentle, almost languid waltz, with a simple melody, and even simpler harmonies and construction. Sung without skill, it would be as exciting as a week-old brioche. As caressed by Boyer, it is both sexy and demure - a prime example of a performer spinning straw into gold.

Her voice is full of feminine contradictions. She is both a schoolgirl and a sexual threat. There is the innocence of a juvenile, yet the experience of a woman who has seen something of love. It is nasal, but nevertheless not lacking in either power or appealing tones. Boyer singing opera would be a disaster, but, with diva-like grandeur, she wraps the listener around her little finger with her calculation of even the smallest effect.

Although "Parlez-moi d'amour" is by far her most famous record, Boyer had the fortune to record material written by the finest French songwriters of the time. Given the proper promotion and circumstances, any of these songs could have been as successful as "Parlez-moi d'amour." They reflect popular music tastes of the time, most notably an interest in the seductive rhythms of the tango.

This disc has been produced by David Lennick, who also did the transfers from the 78 rpm discs. The originals are somewhat noisier than those used in other "Naxos Nostalgia" releases that I've heard, but not distractingly so. The comforting hiss of a stylus on a shellac disc mixes well with a puff on a Gauloise and a few sips of Pernod.

The light music of Eric Coates (1886-1957) can be enjoyed by anyone, but it has a special resonance for the generations of English men and women who came of age between the two World Wars. Coates's most popular music - and many of his most popular numbers are included here - is synonymous with everything else that makes England great, including Colman's mustard and punting down the Thames.
Coates was born in a mining town. His father was a doctor, and his mother played the piano. His musical inclinations soon became apparent, and at 20, he entered the London Royal Academy to study viola and composition. He earned money playing the viola in theater orchestras, no doubt honing his understanding of what made a good tune popular, and what made a popular tune good.

He had a few songwriting successes as a young man, but he didn't make composition a central wage-earning activity until 1919, when neuritis made it difficult for him to continue playing the viola professionally. >From that point on, Coates wrote one light music hit after another. People sitting by their radios have been happy ever since.

Recordings of Coates's music are far from uncommon, and they have been good, bad, and indifferent. Hearing the composer's own recordings is a treat, and - it goes without saying - of historical value. Coates was a good conductor. He elicited spirited yet detailed playing from the various orchestras that he led, and he never let his mellower numbers (such as the evergreen By the Sleepy Lagoon) lapse into mawkish sentimentality.

Coates provided first-class entertainment for the masses, whether he was holding a pen or a baton, yet his music never seems condescending or calculating.
These recordings have been selected and prepared for CD by producer Peter Dempsey. The original materials are Columbia shellacs recorded between 1926 and 1940. The later sides still produce a particularly rich sound, and I was surprised by the depth and detail of the bass in 78 rpm records that are, after all, more than 60 years old. The presence of surface noise is not at all bothersome. If anything, it adds atmosphere.

The words "Volume 1," though not prominent, suggest that there is more Coates to come. Naxos Historical recently released a similar collection of light music by Albert Ketèlbey in vintage recordings.

Samson et Dalila has had its share of recordings, but when I think back on the singers who essayed the title roles, few French names come to mind. (Several Spanish names do, however, particularly on the male side.) Here's a recording - and it was the opera's first complete one - that is French all the way through. (José Luccioni, in case you are doubtful, was born in Corsica, and he studied at the Paris Conservatoire.) Does it make a difference? I think so. The two main characters actually seem to be interacting here, rather than merely throwing rhetoric at each other, and Ferdinand Lemaire's libretto is revealed to have palpably dramatic qualities after all.

Bouvier and Luccioni are excellent singers. Perhaps they are not "stars" like Risë Stevens and Ramon Vinay, but they are totally inside of their roles on this recording. Luccioni sings with a mixture of heroism and vulnerability; his tone trumpets but never blares. Bouvier, an under-recorded singer, does not make Dalila's seduction of Samson an episode of bovine ridiculousness. Instead, she is warm and sexy and very chic. Her singing of "Mon coeur s'ouvre a ta voix" is both a highlight and a point of culmination. She is erotically persuasive here, and one can hardly blame Samson for giving in. Both of them have excellent diction and vocal acting skills; you'll hardly need a libretto to follow the action on this recording. Fourestier does nothing unusual, but he conducts with immense understanding and taste, and the other singers and musicians match the high standards set by Bouvier and Luccioni.

The bonus at the end of the second disc is a set of five arias sung by Luccioni. Carmen's "Flower Song" was recorded in 1936; "Ah! Fuyez" from Manon and "Ne pouvant réprimer" from Hérodiade were recorded in the following year. The Gounod arias (the "Stances" from Polyeucte and "Ah! Lève-toi, soleil!" from Roméo) were recorded in June 1946, just a few months before the Samson sessions. Luccioni is no less impressive here. This is red-blooded singing, and quite worthy to compare and contrast with that of Georges Thill.

Ward Marston produced these CDs and effected the transfers from 78 rpms. As usual, he has done an excellent job of correcting faults in the source materials without removing any of the music. He had two challenges here. One was that the pitch varied from the start to the end of the sides, a common fault earlier in the 78 rpm era, but a rather unusual one at this late recording date. The other was overloading in the opera's climaxes; Marston has minimized this by filtering and equalization. I'm happy with the results. Marston was fortunate to be working from three (!) mint condition sets of original Samson pressings. What's in your closet?

There is no libretto. Naxos does offer a synopsis, however.

The latter work was recorded in 1927, and it is the most problematic of the selections, in terms of sound.

The rest of the recordings come from 1936. These were recorded in Columbia's Abbey Road studios with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. Predictably, the sound is better, but not consistently so; more brightness is needed. Sea Drift is the major work here. Remarkably, Beecham tried recording it several years earlier (with baritone Dennis Noble) but he did not approve the results. John Brownlee sings the music full-throatedly; I appreciate his unwillingness to milk Delius's music and Walt Whitman's text for pathos, but there are more sensitive versions than this. About the remaining performances on this CD it is difficult to have any serious reservations. Beecham's grasp of form and color is superb, and while he neglects no nuance nor fine detail, his conducting is neither fussy nor effete. Delius might have painted in watercolors, but he was all man

On Hearing the First Cuckoo in Spring (recorded in December 1927) is done with unsurpassed tenderness, and yet Beecham never allows this pastoral work to become passive. Its companion piece, Summer Night on the River, was recorded the following July. Here, it is lit like a painting by James McNeill Whistler - dark half-tones and occasional glints of striking light. This is Delius at his most warm and impressionistic.

The rest of the selections on this CD were recorded in London in 1934, mostly in London's Abbey Road studios.

At least one publication has complained about how unsatisfactory these transfers are beside earlier LP versions of the same recordings. I don't have the World Record Club LPs to compare this Naxos issue to, but I heard nothing on this CD that made me feel cheated, and I am a frequent listener to recordings of this vintage. If anything, the traces of groove noise and side-changes are comforting -- they suggest that the original shellac discs were not over-processed in the preparation of this CD. The transfers are by David Lennick.

Kleiber was closely associated with the music of Beethoven, Johann Strauss II, and Richard Strauss. His youthful experiences in Prague, where he also attended university and conservatory, no doubt prepared him to conduct the Czech repertoire found on this disc.

Carnival was recorded in 1948 with the London Philharmonic. This is a joyful and technically secure reading of Dvorák's most popular overture, and its impact is increased by the quality of the original recording, which was an early title in Decca's "ffrr" series. The Scherzo capriccioso, abridged in this recording in order to fit on two 78rpm sides, was recorded with the Berlin Philharmonic in 1930. The abridgement is unkind, but it was not an uncommon practice at the time, and Kleiber's conducting is kittenish and insinuating. Some traces of pitch instability, a function of the original discs, remain in spite of attempts to correct it.

The transfers have been effected by the erudite Mark Obert-Thorn, whose philosophy is to leave the surface noise in rather than lose any of the musical nuances, a philosophy I applaud. He hasn't been given the best original materials to work with, but I gather that at least some of these recordings are somewhat uncommon, so there's no reason to complain too loudly. Because Kleiber is an interesting conductor with a following even today, and because he has not been represented well in the historical recordings market, this release will deservedly be welcomed by many collectors.

By engaging Mark Obert-Thorn as producer and "Audio Restoration Engineer", Naxos has scored a coup, because few individuals know more about getting music out of 78rpms and bringing it to the CD-buying public than Obert-Thorn. In spite of this set's high affordability -- as always, a Naxos trademark -- there is no evidence of cost-cutting anywhere. Listeners can expect a first-class product: grand old recordings, better transfers and digital remastering than ever before, and informative annotations.

Alfred Hertz conducts Berlin Philharmonic in the 1913 recordings. These were acoustic in origin -- no microphones yet! -- and so the Orchestra (rather, a reduced ensemble of 30-some musicians, crowded into a studio) played into a single horn. This is a 37-minute "orchestral suite" from Wagner's nearly sacred opera, including the Prelude, the Transformation Scenes from Acts I and III, and the Good Friday Spell. Hertz (1872-1942) was one of the era's pre-eminent conductors of Parsifal. He was ten years old when the opera was premiered in Bayreuth, and he was the first conductor to conduct the score outside of Bayreuth, including at the Metropolitan Opera (which incidentally got him in trouble with the Wagner estate). It almost goes without saying, then, that he understood this music deeply, and that he was a qualified and capable conductor. The recording requires some tolerance, but it is amazing how much one can hear.

Karl Muck (1859-1940) spent part of the 1910s as chief conductor of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, but he returned to Germany at the end of World War One. In 1927, Columbia came to Bayreuth to record extensive excerpts from Parsifal, and Muck was the label's first choice. They could not afford many singers, however, so the excerpts that were recorded (including the Grail and Flower Maidens Scenes) went without. Bass Alexander Kipnis (Gurnemanz) and Fritz Wolff (Parsifal) were engaged for the Good Friday Spell, but Muck angrily backed down from conducting this scene when he was told that it would have to be split across three sides.

Muck subsequently recorded the opera's prelude and a large portion of Act III in the following year, this time for HMV, and at the Berlin State Opera instead of at Bayreuth. HMV brought the Bayreuth bells along, however, and they also brought two singers who had sung in performances of Parsifal with Muck at Bayreuth two months earlier: Gotthelf Pistor (Parsifal) and Ludwig Hofmann (Gurnemanz). Here, the Amfortas is Cornelius Bronsgeest. The sound is even better here, and Muck remains at his post throughout the entire recording, even for the Good Friday Spell, which again was split over several sides! Beautiful, intelligent singing abounds, and the quality of the orchestral playing is higher than it was in Bayreuth.

Perhaps understandably, Naxos doesn't provide any texts and translations, but they do offer a thorough track-by-track synopsis of what's going on. For this and for sonic reasons, this set is not recommended to listeners who are coming to the opera for the first time; they should purchase a complete modern recording and spend some time getting to know the music first. However, for those who have gained some familiarity with the score, and who are interested in hearing Parsifal as close to how Wagner envisioned it as possible, this is an essential acquisition.

Huberman recorded relatively little, so every example of his playing is welcome. He was an expressive violinist, and one who could move between aristocratic purity and earthy abandon as the interpretation and music required. He was supposed to have been a difficult collaborator, but the playing on this disc is effortless. At times he was free-wheeling, and there are moments on this disc where today's violinists or producers probably would have asked for a retake. Both of these recordings are classics, however, and a few minor imperfections (more fingerprints than faults, really) don't make a lot of difference in the larger scope of these recordings.

The Tchaikovsky features William Steinberg in his first outing on records; later, he would become famous for his work with the Boston and Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestras. In this concerto, Huberman digs in, emphasizing singing tone in the first two movements and gypsy passions in the finale (which, unfortunately, is drastically cut, as was the custom of the time). Although this concerto does not lack remarkable recordings, it is good to have Huberman's version back again.

Brittens Music Eastbourne