Let me say at the outset that this is the most satisfying performance of Gounod's favourite opera yet to appear in the LP/CD era. Yet in a way that is not paying it too much of a compliment as the competition, past and present, is anything but distinguished. In reviewing the Lombard/Erato LP set, almost ten years ago now, I quoted Desmond Shawe-Taylor's dictum: ''poor old Faust! Who is there to sing it now?'' and since he made that comment over 30 years ago in the old Record Guide (Collins: 1951), the situation has considerably worsened. Kenneth Furie writing in Opera on record (Hutchinson: 1979) was almost in despair about the lack of singers who understood the idiom: ''The voices Gounod knew were types particular to France, and the language he set with such lyrical eloquence and declamatory force is one that equally combines these qualities: French''.
Furie also wrote that the role of Faust ''requires declamatory power and articulateness for the opening scene; purity, sweetness and breath control for the cavatina, 'Salut d'amour', and the garden duet; clarity and force... for the duel trio''. Well, Araiza—somewhat to my surprise—commands these qualities to a greater extent than his rivals of recent times. Though no Thill or Bjorling, his voice has expanded into something near spinto quality, so that the heavier sections of the part have a force to which Araiza, who has recently sung the role in Vienna, adds a commitment wholly appropriate to Faust's own, certainly greater than Domingo's for Pretre (EMI). Domingo gives an all-purpose reading, though his is the better voice. In the lyrical music—listen to ''laisse-moi''—Araiza manages a real pianissimo not found in his rival's assumptions, and his general manner suggests something of both the seamless legato and control of loud dynamics evinced in the better of his great predecessors in the early days of recording. Against that must be set a timbre that has never taken too successfully to the spotlight shone on it by recording, and a horribly intrusive high c (unwritten) at the final ''Fuvons'' in the duel scene.
Furie lamented the ''doleful influence'' of Chaliapin on his successors as Mephisto. Certainly Christoff(for Cluytens on EMI—LP only) and Ghiaurov (Pretre—CD only), for all the 'face' in their performances, have always exaggerated the malice and high-jinks inherent in the part. Nesterenko doesn't make that mistake and, though an East European, he doesn't have that kind of Boris sound, coming much closer to the bass-baritone smoothness and focus the part ideally requires. Davis apparently believes Mephisto should have charm, his evil emerging only in Act 4. Both his solos and his interjections have much of the wit and point called for, then in Acts 3 and 4 he shows his evil, demanding core. But his French, like that of the other principals, is well-coached rather than idiomatic.
The set's big disadvantage is its Marguerite. Until she appears on the scene in Act 3, Davis has generated just the sense of a live and lively performance seldom found on the rival recordings. He obviously cherishes the work, lavishes immense care on Gounod's felicitous scoring (prompt and light in Walpurgis Night, for instance, then 'fantastic') and persuades his Bavarian forces to lift the rhythms in a really Beecham-esque manner (try the chorus at the start of Act 2), and far superior to erratic Pretre in shaping the piece as a whole. But once Te Kanawa enters, he seems forced into a more lackadaisical manner. From her first entry, and certainly in the Jewel song, she coasts through the music in a way that has flawed most of her recent records. John Steane regretted the want of joy in Freni's singing (Pretre) at the sight of the baubles; with Te Kanawa you would hardly imagine they are there, and in the garden scene she hardly suggests the rapture of first love. The scene with Siebel, heard here in full, is more felt; so is some of the later music, but her occulded diction is a fatal failing, and the voice itself has lost some of its bloom. Still, she is better than Caballe (Lombard—LP only), less droopy, and maybe nearer to the character than Sutherland (Bonynge/Decca—LP only). Only Freni, so touching in ''Il etait un roi de Thule'', and Los Angeles really catch the role's pathos, but the latter was in less than pristine voice in her second version with Cluytens. Andreas Schmidt's Ficher-Dieskau-like baritone is wrong for Valentin; here Allen (Pretre) is—as JBS commented last month—wholly admirable. Pamela Coburn is an edgy Siebel, though the restored ''Si la bonheur'' has character. When you briefly hear Cachemaille as Wagner singing 'real' French you know what the rest of the cast lack.
In spite of my strictures, and because Sir Colin far surpasses all his rivals in understanding the considerable merits of this much-maligned score, elevating it by his understanding and conviction to Berliozian heights, I was consistently held by the performance, much better played then the Pretre. It also has one of Philips's most natural, forward and well-balanced recordings—voices in perfect alignment with the orchestra. The ENO have recently reminded us, however, that the work was intended as an opera-comique with dialogue instead of recitative, and that it goes much more fluently in that way. One would now like to hear it recorded in that more intimate form, and with French singers—I think they can be found.
Some textual points: the ballet appears as an appendix—as on the Pretre—a sensible procedure, and the possibly spurious final six bars are cut. No complaints there.'