Stokowski was the operatic conductor who rarely conducted opera. A specially excited interest, therefore, attends the few recordings which catch him at work in the theatre (an unforgettable Metropolitan Turandot for instance) or in which he conducts substantial excerpts, as here. Samson et Dalila is, as the note says, a curious choice, whether he for it or it for him – yet those with long memories will recall a 78rpm recording with the Philadelphia Orchestra of the Bacchanale, which to us at the time seemed the last word in modernity of orchestral sound.

There’s a sense of luxury in these 1954 recordings, too: big and loud, the voices of the New York stars right up-front, and the performances fairly pulsating with orchestral expertise and energy. Risë Stevens is in glorious voice, seamlessly produced; Jan Peerce, not one for Samson in the theatre, is the fervent embodiment of the rallying hero in his opening solo; Robert Merrill is as always a pleasure to hear. There are limitations, to be sure: Stevens is an utterly straightforward Delilah, without subtleties of singing style or characterisation; Peerce is not a singer in whose mouth the French language (well as he pronounces) sounds French; Merrill’s High Priest is an amiable type who just happens to be on the wrong side. Indeed, one feels that the Philistines deserve what is coming to them, if only for their taste in dance music.

In Tatyana’s Letter Scene, Stokowski again maximises the excitement and delights in the richness of orchestration. To hear Licia Albanese as soloist and singing in Russian is another surprise. She seems to me not quite convincingly young, and yet girlish in the lack of body in the middle and lower parts of the voice. But she gives a vivid performance which at times has a touchingly personal quality. Perhaps another issue in the series will bring out her (and Stokowski’s) Villa-Lobos.