A more consummate artist (they used to say) never trod the stage. And I believe them. Plancon was not only the most polished of singers with regard to technique and style, but he also used his exceptionally beautiful voice to express and characterize. We are introduced to this feature of his singing from the very start, his leery, sneery Mephistopheles having all the airs and graces of a gentleman with a laugh he has picked up in the gutters of Hell. Vulcan, in Gounod's Philemon et Baucis, has the deeper-toned vigour of the smithy in his voice, and the Count in La sonnambula imaginatively caresses the loved places of his youth, now revisited, the voice becoming all affection and tenderness. Berlioz's Mephistopheles sings his Flea song with a frisky agility and lightness; Verdi's King Philip faces his inward desolation with dignity and deep feeling.
For purely vocal qualities, there is no finer textured voice on records, no singer with more complete mastery over the instrument, whether in the legato of Sarastro's arias or the brilliant scalework of the Drum-Major in Le caid. And the trills! Occasionally one wishes for a more colourful, expansive resonance on top notes (though it is well to remember that even on the first records of 1902 Plancon was nearly 50). And of course the recordings are in some ways no more than primitive; yet so often the voice is perfectly caught, the face illuminated, and one thinks (as has been said before) that he might almost be in the room.
Warnings. Most of these records are extremely rare, and not all the copies used here are first rate—though many are, and finely transferred too. Styles change and style in Mozart particularly. Finally, as to the songs: they might well be considered banal, but I can only suggest that they be given a chance and not 'worried' over. A day will come when you will find one of them hovering on the verge of memory and you might even find yourself singing it—though probably not as well as Plancon.'