Seasoned collectors who can't get on with the Nimbus transfer process will perhaps not be tempted to give it another try with this one: the records are well known and no doubt are up there on the shelves with the other 78s when wanted (though it would be a very diligent or lucky collector whose copies were all in as good condition as those used here). Anyway, let me write now for what one might condescendingly call the junior collector, or the experimental buyer whom I hope this Prima Voce series will attract (as, indeed, reports confirm that it has already done).
At the time of these recordings Galli-Curci was in her prime, with a voice of celestial purity, a technique capable of rare accomplishments, and an utterly personal manner that can be adorable—and, like most personal manners, may sometimes be irritating too. Later in her career the pitch sagged on certain notes and her voice dimmed in lustre; and this was at a time when she was one of the most famous women in the world, so that expectations rose to unreasonable heights, as did seat prices. You sometimes hear disparaging remarks, and some are just: but they do not apply here, for here is some lovely singing. Every item brings its own pleasure: the delicious languor of Juliette's waltz, the marvellous precision and fluency of the ''Eclat de rire'', the charm and humour—not to mention the dazzling technical achievements—of ''Una voce poco fa'', and so on. She is not a profound interpreter, and the Puritani aria has none of the intense pathos of Boronat or Callas, but it is not unfeeling either; the Traviata ''Addio'' is not Muzio or Olivero, but again there is emotion in the recitative, and in the aria the purity of sound is itself touching, while the Act 2 duet has much heart in it. The laughter in ''Sempre libera'' is unfortunate, and Pretty mocking bird could drive you mad. But everywhere else—the Don Pasquale especially, oh and the Sonnambula, Linda di Chamounix, La villanelle—there is charm and delight in abundance.
Galli-Curci also had a favourite party-piece called The Echo Song, which is not included here. Quite right: it would have been superfluous as in a sense they are all echo songs. Nimbus's resonant hall gives these records an additional reverberance and sense of space: somewhat oddly, I find that whereas this does not seem to suit her partners in duet, Schipa and de Luca, it frees her own singing from the confined conditions of early recording and brings out a vivid awareness of character and presence. Seasoned collectors may object; but when I have tried out the disc on visitors who felt free to listen in delighted ignorance, it has played to an accompaniment of ''My, oh my'' and other such expressions which may not be the language of the higher criticism but are still quite effective in the conveying of an enthusiastic response.'