Outstanding here is the Elgar, perhaps because it is the one romantic composition in an essentially classical programme: for whatever reason (its intrinsic beauty or that of the performance, or all of those things) I found it laid siege to the emotions. So did Dido’s lament, and this may have been due partly to the date of the recording and the special quality of the young voice. Of course Dame Janet’s voice remained lovely throughout her career, but the record from 1961 captures it in that state of innocence singers may keep (if they have it in the first place, and many don’t) only a short while once the professional work has got underway. And, if the voice itself has the freshness of student days still upon it, the technical command and assurance have already the firm stamp of a mastersinger. Those two items, by date, origin and repertoire, stand apart from the rest, and, as I say, they are outstanding in the other sense too.
The main body of the collection derives from recitals made in the 1970s. The Handel, with Leppard conducting, was one of the most joyful ever, and it is well represented by the four items here. The arias from Joshua and Ariodante are brilliant in rhythmic vitality (Leppard contributing his share to that) as in virtuosity; the famous ‘Dove sei’ and still more celebrated ‘Ombra mai fu’ have a delightfully personal, almost private, character. The Gluck too is magical, and the Mozart includes, in ‘Smanie implacabili’, a good example of the Baker fighting spirit, without which no anthology would be complete. The Italian songs I find less appealing, partly on account of the arrangements, not attributed in the skimpy leaflet but the work of Simon Preston. The leaflet lets the issue down. Whatever the intended market, there will be people saying to themselves ‘I wish I knew what it’s about.’ In most instances a couple of sentences would do: as it is, not even the foreign titles are translated.'