Sutherland sang Norma for the first time at the age of 36 late in 1963 at Vancouver. She recorded it the following summer and the original RCA set appeared in 1965 (now on Decca). Here we are over 20 years later. Time and age, alas, occupy our thoughts as we contemplate the new recording from afar, approaching warily. Sutherland, who can still give a stunning performance 'in the flesh' has not sounded anything like her best self on records for several years: and Norma is generally acknowledged to be the most demanding of all roles in the operatic soprano's repertoire. Still from afar, one wonders what the thinking was behind the desire to make a new recording at this date. Perhaps stage experience had brought a deepened understanding in 1970 alone she sang 35 performances, and it may be that the recorded Norma of 1964 sounded superficial in the light of this greater familiarity. Perhaps, as with the triumphant Lucia di Lammermoor at Covent Garden two years ago, there was the natural delight and pride of a singer and her public in seeing that the tour de force could still be accomplished. Perhaps it was the idea of the glamorous association of two great names, Sutherland and Caballe, that provided the attraction. With Pavarotti and Ramey added to it, the cast is a very starry one indeed. Yet the misgivings lurk, and the actual listening is done to an uneasy accompaniment of hopes and fears.
In the event neither is completely fulfilled. One may have hoped that here will be a deeper characterization of the role, a matured insight, and certainly there is a stronger sense of authority. ''Sediziose voci'' has a more matriarchal sternness ''voci di guerra'' a more chesty emphasis. Yet as the great moments of decision come (''Ah, si, fa core'', ''Ah, no, son miei figli'' for instance) the vividness of spontaneous impulse and realization are not compelling, and seem scarcely to have increased over the years. A gasp follows the exclamation ''Solo!'' in the final confrontation with Pollione; that is new.
Conversely, worst fears about the voice are not fulfilled either. Shunning side-by-side comparison with the sounds of 20 years ago after a couple of experiments, one simply has to accept that the voice has thickened in the lower register, thinned in the upper and loosened in its vibrations. The flexibility remains virtually unimpaired, and while Sutherland no longer sings ''Casta diva'' and the ''Mira, o Norma'' duets in the original keys (as in 1964), she still has a powerful top D to prolong for bars and bars as the climax to the finale of Act 1. The embellishments to the second verse of ''Ah bello a me ritorna'' and the soft, compassionate tone of ''Oh, rimembranza'' are moving to hear, reminders of what was, and testimony to such achievements in the present as we must warmly salute.
Perhaps the most cogent justification of the set is the casting of Caballe as Adalgisa. A famous Norma herself, whose RCA recording (SER5658/60, 11/75) affords glimpses of greatness, she manages rather marvellously to adapt her vocal character to that of the younger woman. Though Adalgisa is commonly thought of as a role for mezzo-soprano, any hint of a voice tonally deeper than Norma's puts the dramatic relationship the wrong way round. Caballe's tone, though rich, is a soprano's and she very carefully keeps a mental picture of maidenliness in view as she sings. Marilyn Horne was Sutherland's previous partner magnificently equipped to deal with the problems of range and technique; but by comparison with Caballe hers is a very plain reading of the part where in a simple melody such as ''Mira, o Norma'' Caballe shades with exquisite poignancy and finesse.
Pavarotti's Pollione is clean-cut and vigorous Ramey's Oroveso authoritative if not in the Italianate way that listeners who remember Ezio Pinza would like to hear. The recorded sound is a great improvement on the 1965 set so far as the orchestra is concerned. Bonynge's reading of the score seems not to have changed very much, he is alert but not over-assertive, occasionally wedded to an idea which others may regret (the anticipation of the molto ritardando in the great final climaxes is an example) but not normally departing far from tradition as represented by, say, Serafin (EMI). He uses, as in the previous recording, an effective version of the Act I finale, but cuts a few things such as Norma's first phrases below Adalgisa's ''trema il mio cor di chiedere'' and introduces Norma's voice into the coda of the ''Guerra'' chorus only for the final arpeggio (which provides a somewhat sentimental effect).
The recording's release seems curiously timed when the great Norma of the age is so much in people's minds. And perhaps it is significant that at no time in this review has comparison with Callas (for Serafin) seemed appropriate: the vocal problems there were of a different order, and so were the artistic achievements.'