The final volume of this series of the complete Rachmaninov songs opens with a powerful dramatic outpouring. It is in fact a formal letter of apology, for unavoidable absence from a gathering, which he sent for Chaliapin to sing to Stanislavsky; and one of the most touchingly elegant phrases is simply the date on the letter, October 14th, 1908. Perhaps he was showing a rare touch of irony in using his full lyrical powers in such a context; but at any rate, the piece nicely prefaces the two collections of his last phase of song-writing, before he left Russia for exile. Some of his greatest songs are here, coloured in their invention by the four great singers whose hovering presence makes the disposition of this recital between four similar voices a highly successful idea.
The Chaliapin songs go to Sergei Leiferkus, occasionally a little overshadowed by this mighty example (as in “The raising of Lazarus”, Op. 34 No. 6) but much more often his own man, responding to the subtly dramatic, sometimes even laconic melodic lines with great sympathy for how they interact with the words, as with the strange Afanasy Fet poem “The peasant” (Op. 34 No. 11). Alexandre Naoumenko inherits the mantle of Leonid Sobinov, and though he sometimes resorts to a near-falsetto for soft high notes, he appears to have listened to that fine tenor’s elegance of line and no less subtle feeling for poetry. Pushkin’s “The muse” (Op. 34 No. 1) is most tenderly sung, and there is a sensitive response to line with “I remember this day”. Maria Popescu only has two songs this time, “It cannot be” and “Music” (Op. 34 Nos. 7 and 8), but she has the light tone and bright manner which can also be heard on records from her exemplar, Antonina Nezhdanova. Joan Rodgers is, as before, exquisite in the most rapturous and inward of the songs (the great Felia Litvinne was the original here). Of the Op. 38 set, Rachmaninov was particularly fond of “The rat-catcher” (No. 4), and especially of “Daisies” (No. 3), which she sings charmingly, but it is hard to understand why he did not add “Sleep”. He might have done had he heard Rodgers’s rapt performance with Howard Shelley, the music delicately balanced in the exact way he must have intended between voice and piano as if between sleep and waking.'