These are admirable issues on every count. They remind us conclusively that the first half of the last century was a golden age of singing Verdi, and the original 78rpm discs are presented here in the most favourable light: I have never heard them surpassed for fidelity in terms of clarity, immediacy and exclusion of surface noise. To add to the seasoned Verdian’s pleasure, the choice of items has been made by someone who knows about the real collectors’ gems available. For instance, on the two-CD ‘Viva Verdi!’ issue we are shown conclusively that the era boasted basses not since rivalled for rich tone, firm line and interpretative skill. De Angelis, Pasero, Pinza, Kipnis and Christoff vie with each other for superiority: Kipnis just carries off the honours. Hearing him singing Fiesco’s lament again reminded me just what a sensitive artist he was, this solo sung with the art of the great Lieder interpreter.
Then who could gainsay the army of tenors: Caruso eloquent and warm in Macduff’s elegiac solo, Schipa a model of style as the Duke of Mantua, Di Stefano a fervent, outgoing Alfredo, Bonci – at 57 – still all wit and elegance as Riccardo (the famous risi a joy), Pertile in a quite overwhelming account of Alvaro’s Act 3 aria from Forza, Martinelli heroic and upright as Radames, ditto Bjorling as Manrico, Zenatello the near-ideal Otello (this and the other Fonotipia originals catching the real quality of a voice). Among the sopranos it is the spintos who most catch the ear, notably Spani and Rethberg (a tender, inward ‘Ave Maria’) and the underrated Cigna and Arangi-Lombardi, their opulence much missed among their successors today. Then the young Olivero’s sweet and plangent Violetta, quickly vibrating tone and all, is something to savour. The mezzos aren’t to be outdone; Minghini Cattaneo and Stignani have hardly ever been surpassed in command and control in respectively ‘Stride la vampa’ and ‘O don fatale’. What all these artists have in common is their Italian heritage, their immediacy of communication and – perhaps most important of all – imagination in the use of vibrato, rubato and every other expressive device.
Stracciari and Stabile (the latter more characterful as Falstaff in 1942 than in 1924), two very different baritones, appear in that two-disc affair and re-appear in the CD devoted to a wonderful gallery of superlative baritones. Even the ones known little out of Italy, such as Galeffi, Molinari and Morelli, shine forth with their secure, Italianate voices and styles. The familiar names are all heard at their best: Maurel, Ancona and Battistini representing the older guard, De Luca, smooth and plaintive as Rodrigo, Ruffo, black-browed as Rigoletto, Granforte tortured as Renato, and above all Amato, a paragon of a Verdi baritone. Then there are the Germans and Americans: Schwarz and Schlusnus evincing true Verdian bel canto while singing in German, Tibbett an unrivalled Boccanegra in terms of vocal strength and projection, Warren as a forceful Ford. Bringing up the rear, the velvet-toned Hungarian Sved, and the Russian Lisitsian, dark and impressive in ‘Il balen’. All these noble voices have their own individual timbre while displaying a uniform ease of production and a way with the text that has the characters they portray leaping out of the speakers. Don’t miss the chance to hear such a feast of great singing appropriate to Verdi year.'