This is an important—and quite captivating—disc. It is complementary to Preiser's previous issue ''Maria Reining sings'', comprising her Decca recordings (9/92), in that it includes all Reining's Electrola discs, plus seven unpublished titles (presumably withheld at the time because of wartime restrictions). They are pure treasure. The three 'new' operatic titles, all cut in 1942, are ''In quelle trine morbide'' (Manon Lescaut), ''Che tua madre'' from Madama Butterfly (both sung in German) and ''Psyche wandelt'' (Die toten Augen). They show incontestably why Reining was considered the true successor to Lotte Lehmann in Vienna. The sheer beauty of her singing, allied to its complete sincerity, makes all three moving experiences, particularly the Butterfly, which shows Reining as an even more intense singer than I had imagined, yet one who keeps the emotions wholly within the bounds of pure and lovely singing. This is a reading that would surely convince anyone of Reining's calibre.
Then there are four Strauss songs previously unpublished, also recorded in 1942. Three are ones the singer recorded at about the same time with Strauss at the piano (also available on Preiser, 10/92), but the interpretations here, all made with the Vienna Philharmonic under Moralt, are not only better recorded but even more radiantly sung—Cacilie gloriously soaring as befits the ardent text, Wiegenlied and Meinem Kinde intimate and entrancing. The newcomer is Morgen!. Now we all know many deeply eloquent accounts of this song: Reining's is as appealing as any. Refusing to linger over the piece, she sings it at a sensible tempo (i.e. not too slow), on a long breath, in a pure, warm tone.
Of the previously issued items, all rarities, Countess Almaviva's arias from Figaro are different and slightly preferable versions to those on the Preiser disc reviewed in 9/92. As a complement to these we have a simple, rather touching version of Susanna's Act 4 aria: all display Reining's smiling tone, her judicious use of portamento. So does the duet from Tannhauser with the impassioned, open-throated Max Lorenz—as well sung as any version of this romantic encounter and sounding as fresh on this transfer as the day it was made. Elisabeth's Prayer is the only non-Electrola recording. It comes from a 1943 broadcast. Both demonstrate why Reining was so prized in this role. Add to these versions of Mimi's and Maddalena's (Chenier) arias, and two delightful operetta songs, and you have a CD full of gems. Any collector as yet unaware of Reining's virtues, so similar to those of Elisabeth Grummer, her equally wonderful successor, should hurry to investigate this issue.'