The Record of Singing, a magnificent, frustrating, two-volume, 20-CD compilation, builds on four LP boxes that ranged from the dawn of recording to the end of 78rpm records in 1952. The first set, The Very Best of Volumes 1–4, is drawn from those original issues—absent, alas, the informative if partisan commentary of early annotator Michael Scott. The second, Volume 5, surveys recordings made between 1953 and 2007.
For any opera lover comfortable with less-than-state-of-the-art sound, the first box holds innumerable thrills: Golden Age names and techniques, great rarities and documents of artists who originated classic roles—Otello cuts with Francesco Tamagno and Victor Maurel; Florence Easton's "O mio babbino caro" (from Gianni Schicchi). Stylistic rewards abound: To name just one, phenomenal trills grace Frances Alda's Loreley aria, proving that idiomatic verismo and bel canto approaches are not mutually exclusive. Sometimes an artist's career best was included, like Hermann Jadlowker's mind-blowingly agile Idomeneo aria. Other choices seemed perverse: Why represent Jan Peerce's distinguished artistry with Naughty Marietta's "Ah, sweet mystery of life"?
The second box yields many puzzling short cuts, presumably to cram in as many singers as possible. Can heldentenor James King fairly be recalled through the 98 seconds of Fedora's "Amor ti vieta"? Why commemorate Irina Arkhipova, among the 20th century's greatest dramatic mezzos, with one of the least-inspired sections from Prokofiev's brilliant film scores?
But there are also many superb moments, like Nicolai Gedda's superhuman traversal of Goldmark's "Magische Töne." American Idol contestants abusing melisma should kneel and worship Victoria de los Angeles, who accompanies herself on guitar in the fiery "Adios Granada." EMI's breadwinners—Callas, Domingo, Schwarzkopf, Popp, Wunderlich—are all here. Longtime producer Walter Legge's operetta fixation yields enchanting Lehár and Offenbach selections from Renate Holm and June Bronhill.
The original anthologies notoriously included far too many second-rate British or London-based "Commonwealth singers," some of whom—like awful tenor Joseph Hislop, singing purest muck—made the cut for the present compilation. The new box continues this tendency, presenting Geraint Evans, Jonathan Lemalu and Amy Shuard alongside excellent British artists such as Janet Baker, Simon Keenlyside and Margaret Price.
The new set includes some genuine duds, like Janine Micheau's shrill, graceless "Nobles seigneurs" and Aage Haugland's shouty "Kazan Song." And only unfortunate late-career aspects of Beverly Sills's singing are represented by an "Una voce poco fa" from 1974—though even her worst records have an instantly recognizable timbre wedded to an ability to conjure up persona via sound alone.
That quality does not emanate from many cuts here by currently prominent EMI artists, perhaps because contemporary recording stars are chosen for sleekness and smoothness. But one positive aspect of the trend is, in general, a much finer execution of Baroque and pre-Baroque music than virtually anyone thought to offer before about 1960. The second box contains not only traditionally trained vocalists (Arleen Auger, Teresa Berganza, Helen Donath) excelling in newly revived repertory, but also a host of early-music specialists whose methods and resources would not have been understood or appreciated by contemporaries of Jussi Bjoerling, let alone those of Enrico Caruso: Paul Esswood, Emily van Evera, the inevitable Emma Kirkby. Pioneering countertenor Alfred Deller rubs shoulders with no fewer than 12 successors, up through French whiz-kid Phillippe Jaroussky.
The new set's low point comes in a final disc from the current decade, as Ian Bostridge's unbearably precious "An die Leier" is followed by Yu Qiang Dal's gummy "Cielo e mar." Still, those labors are balanced with memorable cuts by Max Emanuel Cencic, David Daniels, Joyce DiDonato and Nina Stemme. In sum, these fascinating boxes suggest the Golden Age in singing is always irretrievably past…and always with us, as well.
Compared to the original vinyl boxes this is a mere shadow of a re-release. Both are sloppily produced and the second volume in particular, lazily thrown together without any real attempt at organization of vocal schools. These sets represent a real dumbing down of a great artistic enterprise.