I can’t help comparing this‚ or the experience of listening to it‚ with the Caruso session on Naxos I reviewed last month. With that there was very much the feeling that I wanted to take them one at a time; with this‚ I’m of the strong conviction that not only could Gigli have sung all night but that I could listen to him continuously. It’s not unequivocally a comparison (as it might seem to be) in Gigli’s favour; Caruso has an intensity‚ a majesty of tone and utterance‚ a nobility of art that I don’t think Gigli ever matches. But there’s a joy in it‚ a joy in singing‚ and also‚ in these records – most of them made in his late forties and the last at 50 – the exhilaration of a man who seems triumphantly to be still in his prime. The best of him – the freest and most lovable – is probably to be found in the ‘commonest’ music. Those songs with the minor key verse and major refrain‚ many of them from those terrible films he appeared in‚ are flawless in their placing of the voice and emotion. His Lolita‚ with its chuckle and feeling for rhythm‚ is captivating; La spagnola‚ ‘commonest’ of all‚ irresistible. It’s interesting to hear him sing in German (again at the time of film­making‚ Marionette in Italian‚ Dir geh’rt mein Herz in the German version). And of course‚ in these splendidly clean transfers‚ it’s possible to enjoy his Mozart arias for some of their less regrettable qualities: Alan Blyth strikes a nice balance on those in his notes. Where I’m afraid I can’t agree with him is in his defence of Amarilli – it isn’t on account of the musical period involved‚ but simply that with these excessive portamentos‚ persistent aspirates and over­indulged head­voice it surely is bad singing. And surely the ‘pazzo son’ is too abject (even for that desperate situation)‚ and the added fortissimo B natural at the end a blatant stylistic vulgarity. Never mind. Gigli‚ with all thy faults…