I have for years been in love with Muzio and, as we know, love makes you notoriously blind to faults, so perhaps I am not exactly an objective reviewer when it comes to writing about another reissue of her discs. However, I am certain that those without my special feelings towards this singular artist, and who know her Edisons, will marvel at this reissue, for Ward Marston has wrought another miracle. The crackles and surface noise that usually afflict Edison reproduction have all but been eliminated, so that we can hear Muzio's voice in its absolute prime without, as it were, the effort of listening through a sea of interference. The sheer beauty of the soprano's voice and her wonderful intensity of expression can now be experienced with astonishing immediacy. The same is true of the two precious HMVs of 1911 that include, new to me, the youthful Muzio pouring out her soul in ''Amami, Alfredo'' from La traviata, the voice fresh, even, expansive but already moving in its undertones.
When I reviewed the Cantabile discs of the complete Edisons (5/90) I had to make the proviso that the sound was poor. In every way this Romophone issue is to be preferred: not only is listening now a complete pleasure, but also the original records are placed in order of recording, every date given. An added advantage is an authoritative note by William Ashbrook. As he points out, these recordings chronicle the Muzio voice during the final two years of her stint at the Metropolitan before any decline set in and give us ''the variety of emotions she could conjure up''.
I wrote at length about her virtues in my previous review, so my notes must now be brief. All the Muzio gifts, including that of refined, exquisite phrasing combined with that peculiarly heart-rending intensity that was hers alone, are heard in that enchanting song by Bachelet, Chere nuit (the first disc, track 8). If your dealer will let you hear that, even if you are sceptical about singers of the past, you are sure to make off home with this set, eager to hear the rest. Has there ever been a more moving version of Wally's ''Ebben?'', a simpler, more touching account—or beautifully sung version—of Antonia's ''Elle a fui'' (Hoffmann), a more sensuous reading of Salome's ''Il est doux'' (Herodiade)? To complement the serious items there are the lighter pieces, such as ''A kiss in the dark'' from Herbert's Orange Blossoms, but I must let the newcomer make his or her own discoveries in this feast of captivating interpretations from one of the century's three or four greatest singing-actresses.'