This 3 CD set contains
some of the most glorious tenor singing
ever recorded. Buy it!!!
I could have finished
there, but since the editor almost certainly
would have grumbled, I decided to develop
my opinion at some greater length. For
there are indeed comments en masse
to be made and there are also some hang-ups,
and let’s first have those done with.
The name Ward Marston
as Restoration Producer is as always
a guarantee that the quality of the
sound is the best imaginable. And so
it is here as well, but not even he
can do much about scratchy strings,
a generally thin orchestral sound and
a substantial helping of extraneous
noises: coughs (all right, it was recorded
the day before Christmas Eve and the
winter cold had begun in N.Y.), bumps,
even some small talk. And of course
stage movements are heard, some of them
contributing to the atmosphere of being
there at the old MET. Some of it is
slightly irritating and in one scene
there is a constant ticking noise that
I wasn’t able to identify.
I wonder where the
microphone was placed? The applause
after the set numbers is retained and
it is good to hear the enthusiasm from
the audience. At the end of acts they
are quickly faded out and instead we
hear the announcer - I suppose it is
Milton Cross who was the announcer from
1931, when the MET broadcasts began,
until 1975 – with colourful comments.
The sound quality naturally
affects the enjoyment of the orchestra
and also the chorus suffers. As usual,
however, when the music-making is outstanding
one soon forgets the technical shortcomings
and just leans back to enjoy the performance.
From very early on it is obvious that
this will be a thrilling evening. Fausto
Cleva adopts generally lively tempos
and generates a lot of energy and there
are enthusiastic contributions from
the chorus. I think Gounod’s sometimes
over-sweet music fares well when de-sentimentalized.
And Cleva knows when to draw out the
phrases, e.g. in the Garden scene duet.
The Naxos booklet states
that Faust is in four acts, while
most reference books call it a five-acter.
What is here called Act 1 scene 1, the
meeting between Faust and Méphistophélès,
is normally Act 1 and the next scene,
starting with the Drinking chorus Vin
ou bière, is Act 2. There
are some cuts: the whole first scene
of what is here called Act 3, Marguerite’s
spinning-song and the scene with Siebel,
is omitted and in the last act the Choeur
des Feux Follets is gone. On the
other hand the ballet music, or most
of it, is reinstated in its righteous
place in the Walpurgisnacht scene and
it is played with such gusto that one
soon forgets about the primitive sound.
Valentin’s Avant de quitter ces lieux,
in Act 1 scene 2, written for Sir Charles
Santley, is of course included, but
Faust’s drinking song in the last act
is unfortunately omitted.
It is a great relief
that the voices are so well caught and
as soon as we hear Jussi Björling’s
easily recognisable timbre (the first
singing in the opera) we know that we
are in for an unforgettable night at
the opera. This was one of his favourite
parts, but besides the cavatina, he
never recorded anything from the opera,
even if there were plans for a complete
recording with Beecham. So much better
then, that this document exists. Björling
was in tremendous form that evening,
he sings with such confidence and authority
and pours out a steady stream of golden
tone. The whole first scene is a real
tour de force of great singing, since
the young Cesare Siepi is almost on
a par with Björling. When Faust
approaches Marguerite at the end of
Act 1, Ne permettez-vous pas
(CD1 track 13) Björling sings so
beautifully and the words je t’aime!
(I love you!) are invested with such
glow that even a piece of rock from
the Scandinavian Mountain Range would
melt. The Cavatina (CD1 track 17) is
gloriously sung with refulgent tone
and a perfect high C, but one misses
some of the more lyrical qualities in
this aria. On the other hand we get
those aplenty in the Garden scene duet
(CD2 track 4 and 5) where Ô
nuit d’amour must be unsurpassed.
And listen to Divine purete (track
6 at 3:12) – can anyone regard this
as "cool" singing? In the
Prison scene duet Mon Coeur est pénétré
d’épouvante! (CD3 track 9)
is really incandescent. I can only repeat
the first sentence of this review: "...
some of the most glorious tenor singing
ever recorded".
And Björling isn’t
the only glorious singer here. I have
already briefly mentioned Cesare Siepi,
27 years of age but with an authority
and a palette of colours and histrionic
skill (including a really devilish laughter)
that one thought needed at least another
ten years to acquire. His voice, a true,
black, velvety bass, can be seductive
and menacing, elegant and crude, oily
and straight-forward. Le veau d’or
(CD1 track 9) is delivered at a rousing
tempo, while his Il était
temps (CD2 track 3) shows his outstanding
legato and the serenade (CD2 track 10)
is sung with melting tone and elegance;
the first laughter doesn’t sound very
diabolic, but the final outburst clearly
shows where he belongs. A great portrait
of Méphistophélès
to set beside Chaliapin’s and Christoff’s
assumptions but Siepi is more elegant
than either of them.
The third main character,
Marguerite, is here sung by the American
soprano Dorothy Kirsten, who seems to
be rather under-represented on record.
To judge from this hearing she should
have had more recording opportunities.
She hasn’t quite the innocent charm
and the silken pianissimo singing of
Victoria de los Angeles, possibly the
best Marguerite on disc, but she has
still a fine voice, slightly fluttery
but with a good ring and she is a fine
actor. The song about the King of Thulé
and the Jewel song are excellently done,
a view which the audience at the MET
seems to share. The Church scene finds
her in slightly less steady voice but
in the concluding prison scene she is
back on form again.
Of the other soloists
Frank Guarrera, most well-known perhaps
for his Ford in Toscanini’s recording
of Falstaff, has steady fine
tone in Avant de quitter ces lieux
(CD1 track 8). His French is better
than the others’, but he lacks the French
elegance, he pushes too much and would
probably feel more at home in verismo.
His death scene is even more forceful.
The rest of the cast consists of acceptable
comprimario singers.
The main reason for
acquiring the set is the singing of
the three main characters and, first
and foremost Jussi Björling. The
value of the discs is further enhanced
by the substantial appendix, containing
more than 40 minutes of equally glorious
singing from the great tenor as in the
opera. There are excerpts from three
occasions, first the Telephone Hour,
where he sings Schubert’s Ständchen
very operatically but gloriously.
Compared to Gigli recording Björling
still conveys something of the Lied
character – and he sings it in German.
Victor Herbert’s Neapolitan Love
Song, where he challenges
and outsings Mario Lanza, is a reminder
of his early recording career in the
1930s when he recorded quite a lot of
popular songs, much of them under the
pseudonym Erik Odde – recordings that
are due for release on Naxos, at least
in Sweden. Whether they can be of general
interest for an international public,
sung in Swedish, is another matter.
The recording is very acceptable, while
the Hollywood Bowl recordings are more
distant. He sings however a finely nuanced
Che gelida manina with a brilliant
high C and a lovely pianissimo ending.
In the love duet he is partnered by
his wife Anna-Lisa, who was a good singer
too, which can be heard here, but she
chose to have a very limited career
of her own and instead take care of
the children. Her Mimi is very well
sung and she also takes part (uncredited)
in the Madrigal from Roméo
et Juliette, which is announced
by Jussi. The remaining items, recorded
in a studio with the Swedish Radio Symphony
Orchestra in October 1952 and broadcast
on Boxing Day the same year, offer much
better sound. Una furtiva lagrima
is better sung than either of his official
recordings and the aria from Cavalleria
rusticana shows him deeply involved
with tremendous intensity. "Cool"
singer? Bad actor? Just listen to this
track and you’ll be converted. His singing
In fernem Land from Lohengrin
may come as a surprise to many listeners,
but Björling would certainly have
been a wonderful Lohengrin on stage
and on records. Among the many plans
for further recording projects that
never came to being, was actually Lohengrin.
The aria is sung here in Swedish, sensitively,
authoritatively with refulgent tone
and excellent diction. He sang this
aria at his very last concert, just
weeks before his untimely death, luckily
recorded and later issued by RCA. At
the same concert he also sang two of
the three Sibelius songs recorded here,
Svarta rosor and Säv,
säv, susa, two favourite songs
of his, recorded several times. They
are on the recently issued song recital
on Naxos. The first of them, Var
det en dröm?, suddenly finds
him more recessed, almost as if he were
singing from behind the orchestra while
the harp is centre-stage. In Svarta
rosor (Black roses) the harp is
still prominent but Björling is
closer to the microphone. This balance
problem apart he sings wonderfully with
Sten Frykberg providing fine accompaniments.
This appendix alone
is worth the price of the whole set.
And since the opera has so much to offer
you won’t regret the purchase. You don’t
get a libretto but Keith Anderson’s
detailed synopsis is a good substitute
and Malcolm Walker gives interesting
information about the opera and the
singers.
Buy it!
Göran Forsling
Orchestra and Chorus of the Metropolitan Opera/Fausto
Cleva 
