Whenever I listen to records of Kullman I always have a guilty feeling, similar to that I have when hearing Wunderlich. Both might represent a demonstration of what we mean by a lyric tenor with faultless emission of fresh tone, ease throughout an even register, clear diction, admirable breath control, good understanding of style. So what do I complain about? Just because everything sounds so easy: the arias and duets seem to float by without any individuality of emotion being expressed, without that touch of nuance and/or personality that will illuminate the music from within, and with a touch of complacency in the execution. Of all the famous arias included here, among them those of Lohengrin, Walther, Faust, Radames, Hoffmann, Lensky, Vladimir and Calaf, in that order, there is nothing anywhere to offend the ear and great pleasure to be had in hearing such smooth and effortless vocalization—but I can think of a dozen versions of each I would prefer to hear to those of Kullman.
A more understandable problem is that everything is sung in German. Most of the items were recorded in Berlin in 1932 when Kullman, not yet 30, had just joined the Berlin State Opera and was at the peak of his powers. Columbia in Germany eagerly recorded him in most of his major roles, singing in the vernacular as was then the custom in that country. Kullman, wholly idiomatic in the language although he was American by birth, makes the most of it, but one longs for the original especially where the French and Russian operas are concerned. Make no mistake though, there is tenor singing here that it would be hard to match in any era for polish and natural musicality.
Perhaps the singer is at his most imaginative in the operetta items at the end sung, of course, in the original. On this evidence, he must have been an attractive Barinkay, less ebullient than Tauber and Patzak (who also sings a quieter, more seductive ''Komm in die Gondel'' from Eine Nacht in Venedig—Pearl, 3/90—and refrains from the ugly high note with which Kullman spoils his version) yet still full of fun. The duet ''Wer uns vertraut'' (Der Zigeunerbaron) with the equally youthful Erna Berger is one of my favourite pieces here: it has the smiling grace so essential in Johann Strauss II and challenges the best of the next generation—Schwarzkopf and Gedda, for instance. Even better are the two concluding items—Burger's Launisches Gluck (based on a Johann Strauss II melody from Indigo und die 40 Rauber) and Meyer-Helmund's Das Zauberlied, both delivered with an airy freedom that thrills the ear. The original recordings are excellent, but for once Preiser seem to have nodded: a faint hum affects nearly all the transfers, not serious but audible all the same.'