This live broadcast
from the Metropolitan Opera back in
1938 has been around before. Despite
disastrous sound it has repeatedly been
hailed as possibly the best performance
of this operatic masterpiece ever recorded.
In his Producer’s Note,
Ward Marston delineates its chequered
history. Normally the original NBC Network
discs would have been available for
these Met broadcasts, but in this case
they could not be tracked down. There
was however a set of discs made for
Lawrence Tibbett from radio station
WJZ. These had been played frequently
which, together with careless storage,
had impaired the sound considerably;
today they are unavailable. In the 1950s
a transfer to magnetic tape was made
and this is the source from which Marston
has been working, removing clicks and
other noises, correcting pitch etc –
hours and hours of laborious work, for
which all opera lovers have to be very
grateful. It is still a bad sound which
one has to be very indulgent with, but
as so often with these recordings, once
one has been caught by the performance
the sonic limitations are of secondary
importance. I learnt much of the standard
jazz repertoire by listening to Voice
of America’s broadcasts via short wave
in the late 1950s. It is perhaps for
this reason that I found it quite easy
to adjust. Nevertheless one still has
to regret that it has not been possible
to preserve for posterity more of what
the audience witnessed that night. After
all three of the best singers of the
mid-war era can be heard surpassing
themselves. They might have been less
impressive without the assistance of
conductor Ettore Panizza, and it his
contribution, together with that of
the chorus and orchestra that we first
encounter. The opening storm sequence,
one the most dramatic openings to any
opera, is the most frantic ever heard.
All the way through this fantastic score
Panizza never lets the tension slacken.
This is as white-hot a performance as
can be imagined. But Otello is
not only drama, and in the softer, more
intimate moments Panizza is as sensitive
as any of his more illustrious competitors:
try the ravishing love duet which ends
act 1 and Desdemona’s Willow song and
Ave Maria in act 4.
Sadly the primitive
sound cannot do full justice to the
conductor’s efforts, so in the end it
is the vocal contributions that have
to be our main concern. Even here there
are problems, since the sound and the
recorded balance is variable. Otello’s
entrance with that fanfare-like Esultate!
(CD1 track 3) is very distant and
fails to make much impact; in the theatre
or on a well-balanced modern recording
it is one of the most thrilling moments.
On his next appearance, though, when
interrupting the fight between Cassio
and Montano CD1 track 8, Martinelli’s
voice rings out magnificently. In the
love duet he is both dignified and tender,
though others have managed to express
Otello’s warmth more convincingly, notably
Domingo in any of his three official
recordings. In the second act when Iago’s
scheming has started to be effective,
Martinelli expresses all the stages
of his mental state. In Ora per sempre
(CD1 track 19) his voice cuts like a
shining dagger through the orchestra,
not absolutely steady at all times,
but that hardly detracts from the overall
greatness of his performance; in fact
it rather underlines his mental instability.
And the duet Si, pel ciel shows
a person in total despair. His third
act further exacerbates the feeling
of madness; his monologue Dio! mi
potevi a moving look into his tortured
soul. The end of the act is almost unbearably
intense. In the fourth act he then caps
his performance with a heart-rending
Niun mi tema. Once one has become
accustomed to Martinelli’s very special
sound, his rendering of the part can’t
fail to make a deep impression.
Even more impressive
is Lawrence Tibbett’s Iago. He is wonderfully
oily in the first act scene with Roderigo.
The drinking song is marvellously well
vocalized, outgoing but with an undertone
of menace. In the second act scene with
Cassio, well sung and acted by the otherwise
unknown Nicholas Massue, he caresses
his phrases seductively. He is diabolic
in the Credo as his insinuations and
intimations leave Otello a mental wreck
in the following scene. He sings Era
la notte "sotto voce"
with honeyed tone and in the duet with
Otello Si pel ciel he is both
authorative and noble. "Golden"
is an epithet normally reserved for
tenors, but I can’t find a better metal
to describe Tibbett’s magnificent voice.
This is a full-size portrait of Iago.
By the side of these
two portrayals Elizabeth Rethberg is
more ordinary, but of course Desdemona
is not a part that gives the soprano
many opportunities for dramatic action.
However she sings well in the love duet
and is lovely in the scene with the
chorus in act 2, The Willow Song is
beautifully sung, though others, notably
Tebaldi, have done more with this aria.
Her Ave Maria is wonderful with
a magically soft high note near the
end. The comprimario parts are taken
by Met mainstays, of whom Nicola Moscona,
who sings a good Lodovico, obviously
made his radio debut that evening. This
and much more information is conveyed
by legendary radio announcer Milton
Cross, who is heard in a brief pre-performance
talk and then during the applause after
each act, when he gives colourful descriptions
of the artists’ costumes. It definitely
enhances the "I was there"
feeling. There are no texts and translations
but a detailed synopsis by Keith Anderson
makes it easy to follow the proceedings.
While not being a substitute
for a good modern-sound recording –
Karajan (Decca) and Chung (DG) being
the obvious recommendations – this is
such an essential interpretation of
the score that it should be in every
respectable opera collection, warts
and all.
Göran Forsling
Chorus and Orchestra of the Metropolitan Opera,
New York/Ettore Panizza 
