Sutherland's first Lucia has always had its admirers. But I must say I found myself disappointed on several grounds at this re-encounter. Two years after her superb 1959 account of the mad scene on her first LP recital for Decca (now on CD (CD) 425 493-2DM2—to be reviewed later) the tone has become occluded, the line droopy and the enunciation almost non-existent. By the time she came to record the role again in the early 1970s (also Decca), she had to some extent recovered the pristine clarity of voice and the diction is noticeably crisper. Still, Sutherland enthusiasts won't mind the drawbacks but will be thrilled, as indeed I am, by the sheer beauty and power of the singing, by the soprano's total command of the technical requirements the role calls for, and by the identification, in a general sense, with the character's situation.
I don't find the supporting cast here particularly distinguished. Cioni is effective in a bluff forthright way but has little or none of Pavarotti's sense of a Donizettian phrase (Bonynge). Merrill's Riccardo is, of course, well sung, but he too yields to his opposite, Sherrill Milnes, in the later performance. Finally, there is the lacklustre conducting of Pritchard and the unnecessarily recessed recording, with the voices very backward in relation to the orchestra, rather too typical of Decca sound in the early 1960s. The sum of these unsatisfactory factors adds up to a dead, studio-bound performance, in spite of the attempt at production effects. At least the performance is given complete, but for a more dramatic experience go for either of the Callas/Serafin sets on EMI (the later release at mid price) or Sutherland's later reading with Bonynge.'