Once a regular part of the repertoire, Fra Diavolo has not been given at Covent Garden since 1896. ''Outrageous'', we say, almost by reflex, for we are eternally hopeful that these favourites of our forefathers will turn out to be neglected masterpieces. Not that this one has been entirely neglected: one reads of revivals from time to time, with the reviewer usually paying tribute to the wit and elegance of the piece and giving the impression that everybody enjoyed themselves. Well, it may be so in the theatre but on records the appeal seems to me to be slight. It has pace, liveliness and some charm, yet the melodies have a way of promising something better than they deliver, and they are under such restriction because the range of harmonic interest is so limited. Then again, characters such as Milord and Pamela, the English travellers, could become vivid comic figures on stage, but they hardly establish themselves musically—and, indeed, musically, Diavolo, himself is something of a disappointment, even when brought to life, as here, by a singer so very expert at communicating with an unseen and unseeing audience.
This is Nicolai Gedda, who this year celebrates his sixtieth birthday and who on these records sings like a man of half his age. If he lacks the complete virtuosity and virility of the famous old Jadlowker record of the Act 3 solo (once available on HMV Archive VB54—78rpm), he is still nimble and stylish, with a good ring to the high notes and with the head voice better integrated than most into the main body of the tone. He also sings with extraordinary youthfulness and grace in his Barcarolle—but it must be a sore point with many exponents of the role to know that the song which they themselves would love to sing and which people leave the theatre humming, goes not to him but to the second tenor. In many record collectors' memories it will be the voices of Tauber and Roswaenge that are most associated with Lorenzo's Romance; Thierry Dran, the singer on this recording, has neither the honeyed seductiveness of the one nor the ringing excitement of the other, but he is an attractive singer none the less, with clear-cut tone, a good sense of line and the technique to bring off a well-controlled diminuendo on his high note. Mady Mesple sings the role of the ingenue heroine with charm and accomplishment (in plentiful evidence even though she does not offer the brilliant coloratura song included in the Italian version). There is some fruity characterization by Jane Berbie, agile in her ''Ah! quel voyage abominable!'' solo. Choral and orchestral work goes with verve and style; recording is well-balanced, though I sometimes wish for a sharper edge than the reverberant acoustic permits.'