It’s close on half a century since Walter Legge made these recordings in London in 1953 and 1954. Inevitably, the mono sound is constricted by today’s standards, but these performances remain as vital as ever. Moreover, the new digital remasterings by Andrew Walter and Simon Gibson have not only given greater clarity than on the previous CD releases in 1988, but also added more spacious pauses between acts. Not least, EMI’s Ken Jagger has come up with an ingenious new format of three double-CD albums for the five operettas. It may not help to be forced to buy Eine Nacht in Venedig and Wiener Blut together. However, it does mean that Das Land des Lachelns and Die lustige Witwe (again without the incongruous concert overture that was on the original LP issue) take up just two CDs rather than the three previously. It also enables EMI to provide full texts and English translations, including a splendid new translation of Eine Nacht in Venedig by Gery Bramall.
Schwarzkopf remains for me the most glorious Hanna Glawari of all time, and Gedda’s youthful tenor is a joy as Camille de Rosillon. In Das Land das Lachelns, though, Gedda doesn’t sound quite as fully at ease as he was later to become. Moreover, for all Kunz’s charm and refinement, he is simply too heavy-voiced as either Danilo or Gustl. His downward-transposed ‘Da geh’ ich zu Maxim’ in particular just doesn’t sound right.
Both these Lehar recordings have certainly been surpassed in various ways over the subsequent 40-odd years. For Die lustige Witwe, I’d unhesitatingly go for either Schwarzkopf’s later version or the recent one under Gardiner. For Das Land des Lachelns, I’d choose the all-round excellence, greater completeness and more modern sound of Boskovsky’s recording.
With the Strauss operettas, it’s a very different matter. I might prefer Boskovsky’s more complete Wiener Blut to the curiously abridged version here. But even after all this time, Eine Nacht in Venedig – much revised and never presented fully satisfactorily on record – has nowhere come across more bewitchingly than here. Schwarzkopf’s Annina is sheer joy, and Gedda shapes the Duke’s songs with matchless refinement. You won’t find more exquisite operetta tenor singing, even in Gedda’s own later recordings. Incidentally, the recent release of Strauss’s Simplicius (EMI, 11/00) enables us to compare his ‘Sei mir gegrusst, du holdes Venezia’ with the song in its authentic original Simplicius form.
In some respects, the best of all these performances is Der Zigeunerbaron. Reviewing the new Arte Nova Classics recording (reviewed below) reminded me just how difficult even quite eminent sopranos find the role of Saffi. However, there are no such difficulties for Schwarzkopf – her Gypsy Song is superb. Gedda, too, is again on triumphant form. Yet even they arguably yield pride of place here to Erich Kunz’s wonderfully sung and uniquely characterised Zsupan. There are also potent reminders of Walter Legge’s talent-spotting abilities in the appearance early in their careers of Erika Koth, Hermann Prey and Monica Sinclair in supporting roles.
Not least among the constant joys of all five of these operettas is the way in which Otto Ackermann keeps the score bubbling joyously and sensuously along. Just try remaining unmoved by the glorious way he unfolds the finale of Act 1 of Eine Nacht in Venedig, for instance! If you don’t know these recordings, do take this opportunity to do so. If they are already familiar, you may wish to upgrade to state-of-the-art presentation.'