This Lucia di Lammermoor
belongs to a group of recordings that
Callas made for Columbia in the 1950s.
These are now being re-issued by Naxos,
the recordings having been cleaned up
amazingly by Mark Obert-Thorn.
Though she was signed
by Walter Legge, he did not actually
supervise the recordings and it shows.
The Norma from the same period
is distressingly close-miked and this
Lucia di Lammermoor has similar
problems, though the general acoustic
is not quite as bad. Where this Lucia
gains over the Norma recording
is that here Callas is supported by
a fine and balanced cast, so that the
whole opera works well as drama in a
way that, Callas excepted, Norma
does not.
It is this sense of
drama which made Callas’s assumption
of these 19th century coloratura
roles so remarkable. She combined the
agility and accuracy of lighter voiced
sopranos with a secure feel for the
music’s innate drama. At no point do
you feel that the elaborate cascades
of fioriture are simple decoration.
For Callas they have meaning. She has
a willing partner in Giuseppe di Stefano
as Edgardo. Though his ardent, frank
and open-throated singing is not ideal
for this music, he has a decent sense
of style and line and he is responsive
to Callas herself. It should not surprise
us that Tito Gobbi makes a remarkably
villainous Enrico. I would have liked
more suaveness in his vocalism, but
he convinces with his sheer commitment.
But of course, the
raison d’être for this
recording is Callas. In her later recording
she has a good supporting cast and both
are conducted by Serafin, but in the
later set Callas’s voice is in less
secure condition. Whilst some compensation
for her vocal frailty is offered by
her more intense reading of the title
role, many will prefer this earlier
recording where her voice was more responsive
to her will. Her performance is remarkable
for its accuracy. For all the inherent
instability of her voice on longer notes,
all the passage-work is given with laser-like
clarity and with a clear feeling for
the words.
Where Callas is at
her best is in the mad scene. Here she
has no need of a glass harmonica to
induce an otherworldly atmosphere. You
have only to hear her voice at the words
Il dolce suono to know that Lucia
is in a completely different reality,
and throughout this scene her use of
tone colour is astonishing.
Too often, though,
Callas’s insight must be balanced with
vocal frailty and poor recording; this
is one of the few where her intentions
and the actual recorded results come
closest. But for all the remarkable
insights offered by her performance,
there is something lacking which can
only be captured live. On the theatrical
stage Callas brought an emotional intensity
and vividness to roles that can only
be distantly captured on disc. So if
you really want to know what Callas
could do, then try to get hold of a
copy of the 1955 live Salzburg recording,
with Karajan conducting.
I must confess to being
something of an agnostic when it comes
to Callas’s art. I can appreciate her
intelligence and insights and will treasure
this recording as one of her finest
documents. Her singing of 19th
century coloratura came as a welcome
tonic to the art of performance of this
tricky genre. But, for me, there is
a sense that in investing every phrase
with meaning and inflection, with the
amazing clarity of her fioriture, something
is lost. She rarely seems to relish
the cascades of notes for the simple
beauty of the sound; for that I will
always return to Sutherland who brings
to this repertoire that ability to glory
in the sheer physical sound which is
worlds away from Callas’s approach.
As a bonus you get
a series of earlier recordings of excerpts
from the opera which give glimpses of
how performance styles have changed
over the years. Ezio Pinza gives us
two glimpses of his noble Raimondo and
Robert Merrill is a suave Enrico. Gigli
sings Enrico’s music with a good sense
of line but distorts it with unsightly
bulges which would be more at home in
Puccini; John McCormack, however, displays
his wonderful sense of line.
The version of the
septet included here includes few big
names, but better versions can be heard
on other Naxos historical discs. This
septet recording suffers from a familiar
problem of these early recordings; the
soprano voices sound pale and white
and contrast alarmingly with the vividly
recording male voices. So the popularity
of Amelita Galli-Curci’s discs is quite
understandable when you compare her
recorded voice to that of Maria Barrientos
on the septet; Galli-Curci was lucky,
the primitive recording process seemed
to like her voice and in her duet with
Tito Schipa both voices are vivid. Galli-Curci
and Schipa sing the music with a lovely
lyric grace as does Toti Dal Monte in
her mad scene. But for both sopranos,
the coloratura is elegant decoration.
Beautifully sung as it is, neither soprano
gives us a real Lucia; they simply give
us a theatrical convention. It is to
Callas that we must turn if we want
a flesh and blood heroine, vocal frailties
and all.
But now that this recording
is available at budget price you no
longer have to make the awkward decision
about which recording to buy. Don’t
hesitate: £10 invested in this set is
money wisely invested in one of the
major documents of singing in the 20th
century.
Robert Hugill
see also review
by Robert Farr
Chorus and Orchestra of the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino/Tullio
Serafin 
