Cala has contributed
a long line of profoundly successful
Stokowski reissues over the years and
it continues its revivifying services
in this coupling of operatic excerpts
from 1951 and 1954. As we have seen
before Stokowski did venture at least
occasionally into operatic repertoire
and when he did so the results could
be highly persuasive. This could encourage
all manner of "what if" speculation
as to particular works and missed opportunities
to commit chunks of it to his discography
– and to posterity. The fact remains
that he didn’t and we must rest content
with what we do have.
One of the things we
have is this problematic Samson
from 1954. In his huge biography of
the conductor the late Oliver Daniel
remarked that the recording got off
to a bad start. Robert Merrill was delayed
by bad traffic and Stokowski, not a
man to be kept waiting, duly gave him
a public dressing down. Risë Stevens
admitted that, whilst she admired him,
she didn’t have especially pleasant
experiences of working with him – though
she was pleased enough with the recording,
but had expressed a preference for other
takes to be used (and was over-ruled).
Only Jan Peerce seems to emerged unscathed,
though if he did bear the brunt of any
displeasure we don’t seem to have heard
about it. Ironically in the circumstances
it’s Merrill who emerges with the greatest
vocal honours intact. Stevens has a
worrying tendency to slide up to the
note and even when she gets there her
pitch wavers. The "fat" on
the voice is an acquired taste here
(and I’ve yet to acquire it), much less
the impression that much of her chest
singing sounds insufficiently supported.
Against that one should note that she
can be vividly fiery and has a commanding
presence. Which makes the rather pallid
impression of her Mon coeur s’ouvre
à ta voix all the more perplexing.
Jan Peerce is a butch
Samson though one located somewhere
further west of Paris. Somewhere like
Chicago, perhaps. This was not Peerce’s
finest hour on records and his hectoring
and sometimes crude singing are perishable
features of this highlights set. No,
Merrill is the finest of the trio and
I liked La victoire facile where
he shows authority, a firmly centred
baritone and a degree of characterisation
that his colleagues fail to muster.
Stokowski is at his
most genial, sympathetic also romanticised.
His little wind and string etchings
attest to his commitment. He can also
whip up his – good – choir and orchestra
when necessary. Sample the burnished
curve of some of his conducting in the
Act III Bacchanale for an example of
this affinity, though doubters may note
that he enforces some cuts in the sections
he has recorded and that many listeners
may prefer a rather more tensile conductor
at the helm.
Coupled with the highlights
Samson is Tatiana’s Letter Scene
from Eugene Onegin and sung by
Licia Albanese, who we know got on better
with Stokowski than the unfortunate
Merrill and Stevens. She can get rather
shrill at the top of her compass and
the performance is not – in truth –
really very idiomatic but Stokowski’s
Slavic affiliations are evident as they
invariably were, especially in Tchaikovsky.
The Samson was
available on a long-gone Stokowski Society
LP (LS15) but the Albanese Tatiana has
been out on RCA/BMG GD60384. Cala’s
transfers sound first rate and for Stokowski
admirers it’s good to welcome this coupling
back to the fold. To be blunt I think
its attractions beyond that are somewhat
limited.
Jonathan Woolf
see also
review by Robert Farr
Leopold Stokowski and His Symphony Orchestra
