The word ‘Columbia’ is conspicuous by its absence from the packaging of this excellent and important issue, for these are of course the Columbia 1903s, from originals of outstanding rarity, issued first on ten-inch single-sided discs, some with red and gold labels, some black and white. They appear to have been made in a great rush to beat the rival Victor company in its bid to corner the operatic celebrity market with a new and proudly announced ‘Red Seal’ series. Columbia seem to have had their first discs ready by March, but the Victors lived up to their name and triumphed in a very short time with the recruitment of Caruso to their ranks (Columbia at that time had no tenor) and then buying over several of the most famous names, notably Sembrich, Schumann-Heink and Scotti. Meanwhile here were America’s first celebrity records, with at least one singer, the great Edouard de Reszke, who was never to be heard on them again.
Naturally, it is the three solos by de Reszke that arouse the greatest initial interest, and they have also been quite frequently the cause of greatest disappointment. We remember photographs of a giant and descriptions of a huge voice to match. Then we hear... well, what to call it if not weedy?... this rather pallid, lightweight sound at the start of the Ernani aria, lustreless and hardly of a bass quality at all. Perhaps we pause and give the artist credit for not exercising his power in this song of sad reproach, and later it does become clear that the low notes are not only available but have a true bass sonority; still, the lack of vibrancy in this very Italian music nags so that the performance may eventually gain respect but hardly gives pleasure. Tchaikovsky’s Serenade of Don Juan shows more convincingly the suavity of this ‘black’ bass. But it is really the drinking song from Martha that brings reassurance, expanding with a genuine bonhomie, a fluent cadenza and one of the best bass trills on record.
Others in the 1903 series yield their interests and other rewards, but the collector’s eye will already have gone to the final date in the headings: 1907. This refers to a kind of supplement in which ten items are added from later series in 1907 and 1905. Most delightful is Gilibert singing an old French song, Margaton, and most ‘significant’ is van Rooy’s Die beiden Grenadiere. But most thrilling, I find, are the two by Francesco (Augustin) Nubio. A brilliantly vibrant tenor, he had a substantial career in France and a frustratingly brief one at the Metropolitan (the Romeo and Martha arias were also his contribution to a Sunday concert there in 1904). These form one consideration which should influence readers who possess the two LPs (CBS, 2/64 – nla) which came out in 1963. The other is that the CDs include 15 alternative takes previously unpublished. These have many points of interest (for instance, we can almost see Sembrich starting to enjoy herself in the new medium after a tentative, self-conscious beginning). Transfers are first-class, the documentation is fascinating and the labels are a charming copy of the much coveted originals.'