Here is a special treat for Wagnerians of all ages. As the more experienced among us have long averred, Wagner singing is in many respects not what it was 50 and more years ago. Here is the evidence to prove the fact. It would be impossible to assemble today or at any time in the earlier history of Wagner performance a cast as uniformly impressive as the one encountered on this set. Indeed, if one had to conjure up in heaven ideal interpreters of the four main roles, one would as likely as not choose the four found here. But to find all four in pristine voice, at the peak of their respective forms, is an incalculable bonus.
Because it is his opera, pride of place must go to Melchior. He is nothing short of superb from start to finish. No other tenor has been able to sustain the role with the kind of ringing secure, unflagging tone that he shows here, and his mastery of the text, his insights into Siegfried's feelings at different points in the drama are all extraordinary. We have the callow youth of Act 1, the thoughtful poet of the Forest Murmurs, the doughty fighter, the frightened man discovering his emotions, and eventually the heroic lover of Act 3, all portrayed in ideal style. The forging songs are magnificently delivered, but then there is no portion of the score that finds Melchior wanting.
Alongside Melchior, Schorr's bel canto Wanderer is a treat. Smooth and even in tone as is the singing, there is no lack of granite strength and on the evidence of this afternoon performance, no sign of the failing upper register of report as he rides magnificently over the orchestra in the scene with Erda. And that role finds another perfect interpreter in Thorborg, grave, steady, even grand in her utterance. Then there's the scene on the mountain top where we encounter none other than the gloriously warm, shining elevated Brunnhilde of Flagstad in her absolute prime. She and Melchior bring the whole enterprise to a glorious close. Even now I haven't mentioned Laufkotter's carefully characterized Mime the experienced, authoritative Alberich of Habich and List's sonorous Fafner. Words almost fail me in the face of so many passages sung by all these principals in a manner fit for the gods.
In the pit we have Bodanzky presenting a fiery, dramatic account of the score in the manner of Krauss. Too fast it may be for some, but the excitement of it all, plus playing from the Met orchestra that rivals that on the new Levine/DG version (5/91) silences all criticism, except for sadness at the grievous cuts inflicted on Act 3—practically the whole of the Siegfried/Wanderer scene and a substantial chunk of Brunnhilde's expression of her doubts in the finale. With the given cast, these excisions are all the more regrettable.
The sound is mostly tolerable, but as with all these old transfers there are inevitably dim moments—for instance, the end of Act 2 is especially intractable, as is the awakening of Brunnhilde. But at least the voices never distort and much of the orchestral detail is surprisingly clear. There is also a great deal of click and crackle, but who except the hi-fi fanatic will mind or complain when what is on offer is so memorable, so thrilling—and of such inestimable value as a historic document.'