Here is another, paradoxically, wonderful and infuriating issue in this astonishing series. Devoted to the art of Ursuleac, Runger, Volker and Manowarda, it reveals all four as artists of stature, but just when one becomes absorbed in one or other of their interpretations, the extract comes maddeningly to an end. Perhaps the most rewarding passages are those devoted to Volker in non-German roles. Interesting as it is to hear him in substantial samples of his Rienzi (what a tedious work that is!) and Siegmund, it is his Canio, Don Carlo and Otello that stand out and disprove entirely the view that he could not act, at least with his voice. Canio's last-scene outburst is truly frightening and superbly articulated. Otello's ''Ora per sempre'' proves once again that German tenors in this role were far more obedient than Italians to Verdi's dynamic markings. So is Krauss to his tempo markings, that Farewell to Arms all the more dignified by being taken more slowly than we hear it today. And in terms of sheer heroic tone, Volker is magnificent – and in 1933, when he was but 34, he was in his vocal prime. A pity only about the German translation and Schipper (as Posa and Iago), whose idea of pitch is distinctly vague.
Runger is hardly less impressive. Ill represented on commercial discs, she is more than welcome (singing soprano here) as a truly heroic Brunnhilde, particularly in ''Zu neuen Taten'' (though Polzer is an ungracious Siegfried). As a mezzo she delivers a grandly melodramatic ''Entweihter Gotter'' that predictably provokes an outburst of cheers from her 1933 audience. The same year, in what must have been a vital Krauss revival of Don Carlo, she is hardly less involved and involving in Eboli's ''O don fatale''. Eight years later her voice is in almost as excellent state, when she tackles Elektra under no less a baton than Knappertsbusch's. Her relieved greeting to the avenging Orest is deeply eloquent and voiced in a steady, generous soprano. The conductor offers a predictably grand interpretation in what one hears of it.
Ursuleac's reputation is once more rescued by listening to some of her early readings: her Sieglinde, Empress, Elisabetta and, above all, her gentle yet full-voiced Desdemona, disclose a much steadier tone than her later, commercial offerings and – like Volker – a most sensitive interpreter. Manowarda's sturdy bass vies with Jerger's in the King Philip/Inquisitor confrontation, and he is a suitably saturnine Hagen (the Watch especially insistent and powerful). Glimpses of Hilde Konetzni as Sieglinde and Chrysothemis are, as expected, elating. '