The front cover of The Gramophone in January 2002 posed the question ‘Can anyone challenge Maria Callas?’ in Bellini’s Norma. The heavy presumption of a negative reply was borne out by that month’s ‘Collection’ article. While defects in vocal quality were duly acknowledged, the survey reaffirmed Callas’s supremacy: ‘Nothing is played for as willed theatrical pathos or as melodrama, but simply as the predicament of a woman whose emotional being is totally real and whose singing voice is its unique and irreplaceable expression.’ Something very similar can now be said of Edita Gruberová’s Norma, and to it will have to be added notice of the extraordinary radiance of her voice. And that requires a further note of wonder, for Gruberová was in her 58th year at the time of these performances.

As a fervent admirer of her art from way back (though, admittedly, enjoying her singing rather more in the flesh than on records), I nevertheless found the wonder of this Norma surprising. Her voice, as recorded recently, had begun to show its age – which this singing does not do. The purity and Tetrazzini-like radiance of tone seem scarcely diminished; the years have brought an underlying maturity to the voice and have enabled her to acquire the rare art of infusing her high, bright soprano with warmth and depth of feeling; and the occasionally intrusive unfocused tones which we have known in the past are hardly in evidence at all. ‘Casta diva’ is sung in the high, original key of G, the decorations in verse two being ingenious, neat and natural. The pain of those crucial ‘debate’ recitatives (‘Vanne, e li cela entrambi’, ‘Dormono entrambi!’, ‘Ei tornerà’) is marvellously actual and the climax of the great role is reached with vocal and emotional reserves still to draw on.

The Adalgisa, Elina Garanca, is also an exceptional singer: pure and rich in tone, extensive in range, accomplished in technique and intelligently expressive. Aquiles Machado makes a sturdy, resonant Pollione: no brute but not very interesting either. Alastair Miles brings an authoritative manner to support his true basso cantante singing. And Judith Howarth is luxury casting as Clotilde. The Rastatt Vocal Ensemble give the Druids more life (young and responsive to rhythm) than usual.

The Rhineland Palatinate State Philharmonic play with relish and Haider conducts with firmness and an effective feeling for tempo (sometimes refreshingly brisk). Recording is clear and well balanced, and the only textual grumble is that the lovely ‘Sun-god’ chorus (‘A mirare il trionfo dei figli’) is omitted, as regrettably and by this time inexcusably it still generally is.