Recorded in his mid-forties,
these (First World) war-time recordings
show Caruso at a time of much personal
strain. The military numbers in the
present compilation are a reflection
of the prevailing Zeitgeist.
Perhaps, musically, only Over There
was a mistake. It is sung in English,
although play it ‘blind’ to your next
door neighbour and they may or may not
guess it (maybe some would guess some
sort of hybrid Scandiwegian?). On very
first listening, and not at that point
following the track listing, it took
me a little while to realise just what
was going on, especially as it follows
an excerpt from Forza. Still,
it is stirring stuff, lusty and powerful
and sung with real belief. Le Régiment
de Sambre et Meuse has a most amusing
side-drum part (interestingly, the composer,
Robert Planquette, was himself a tenor).
The two patriotic songs in Italian,
Inno di Garibaldi and La Campana
di San Giusto are involving in their
own short-lived way. The lustiness of
Inno di Garibaldi (Caruso’s lungs
get plenty of exercise here) gives way
to the thoroughly facile introduction
of Campana – one really appreciates
Caruso when he comes in!
The other songs in
this collection get the full Caruso
treatment, and it is particularly enjoyable
to hear him when he is joined by another
singer at the very start of the ‘recital’
– he seems to have a natural empathy
for others. Emilio de Gogorza joins
him in Michelena’s A la luz de la
luna. They make a well-rounded pair
that happens to phrase together in the
suavest of fashions.
Caruso seems entirely
at home and to be enjoying himself –
La partida, which has what must
be a very rewarding castanet part, is
superb (if, at 4’45, a bit long for
itself). Similarly, in the (probably)
universally recognisable Vieni sul
mar, he swings along infectiously,
while Tu, ca nun chiagne is unmistakably
De Curtis and Caruso sings it as if
he was born to do so.
Even with the (for
Naxos) relatively low playing time,
perhaps the producer realised that an
hour of unrelieved song, even from Caruso,
would be too much for most. So, there
is some meatier stuff around. Giuseppe
De Luca joins Caruso in an excerpt from
Forza, and it is marvellous.
De Luca adds spice to Caruso’s silky-smooth
legato. Towards the end of the disc,
we are treated to two operatic excerpts
in a row. ‘Je viens célébrer
la victoire’ from Saint-Saëns’
Samson et Dalila is simply beautiful.
Marcel Journet is marvellously focussed
and Louise Homer phrases most affectingly,
but it is Caruso who sounds the most
involved of the three.
Perhaps surprisingly,
De Luca sounds uninvolved in the Donizetti
while Caruso negotiates the difficult
vocal manoeuvres excellently.
Caruso lovers will
snap up this disc anyway. For me, it
is all too much starter and not enough
main course, but that is just personal
taste and Caruso is rarely less than
magnificence personified.
The sound restoration
is by Ward Marston, so by now perhaps
little needs to be said. We are used
to his high standards. Some hiss is
left on, so that depth remains with
us from the orchestra. A little proof-reading
error on the booklet should not detract
– Naxos state on the last page of the
booklet that ‘All tracks recorded …
with the Victor Orchestra, conducted
by Josef Pasternack’, ignoring the fact
that track 2 is for voice and piano.
Caruso completists
will not hesitate. Those looking for
a celebration of the lighter side of
life shouldn’t either.
Colin Clarke
Enrico Caruso (tenor); iLouise Homer
(mezzo), aEmilio de Gogorza dGiuseppe
De :Luca (baritones); iMarcel Journet
(bass); bVincenzo Lellezza (piano);
a,c-jVictor Orchestra/Josef Pasternack.
