This set has always stood – unjustly – in the shadows of its supposedly more classy HMV counterpart (with Giannini and Pertile; transferred to CD by Pearl) made at almost the same time. In fact, the Columbia has much to commend it, most of all Arangi-Lombardi’s account of the title-role, which has seldom if ever been surpassed on disc. If you think that is a bold claim, I suggest that you listen to her absolute mastery, vocally and in phrasing, of Aida’s two big arias. In the second the precarious high A and the exposed high C are as perfectly managed as one could hope for in an imperfect world. Then there is the duet with Amonasro, so deeply felt, or the “Fuggian” section of the ensuing encounter with her lover, Radames, where she is exemplary in line and tone and in matching text to voice. She simply has what it takes technically, and in spinto sound, to encompass all aspects of this taxing role, with which she wholly identifies. If you want a full summary of her merits, and can read Italian, I refer you to Carlo Marinelli’s wise words in Opere in Disco (Discanto Editione: 1982), where he expatiates generously and at length on this great soprano’s interpretation.
She is matched worthily by Borgioli’s magnificent Amonasro, one of the most compelling on disc. Here is a baritone who has the range, fire and imagination for this short but demanding part. The voice simply pours out unstintingly. Capuana is another appreciable artist, who sings an articulate, ‘lived-in’ Amneris, although she sometimes fails to knit together her registers. As Ramfis, Pasero again proves himself a prince among Italian basses, his rich, vibrant tones balm to the ear; and the 28-year-old Baccaloni is a better King than most. All these singers prove that the Italian tradition, contrary to some commentators’ views, was alive and well in the inter-war years.
The drawback is the often coarse and wooden Radames of Lindi – and he was not Italian but Swedish! Although he recovers from a pretty terrible “Celeste Aida” he is seldom a pleasure to hear unless you are satisfied with decibels alone. Molajoli, as on all these La Scala/Columbia sets, proves himself an honest, prompt interpreter of Verdi, a deal better than many of today’s tyros. The recording, though inevitably boxy, is quite good enough for us to judge the worth of Arangi-Lombardi, whose voice rings out truly across the years.'