On the question of vibrato such as is heard in these records of Pasero's it used to be a matter of the Latin races versus the rest of the world. The quick, reiterative flicker-vibrato is very prominent here: later in this excellent bass's career either it settled down so as to become less noticeable or the later recording process did not bring it out quite so obtrusively (there is probably something in both explanations). Nowadays it has all but disappeared from the face of the earth, and personally I find it a loss, though even for my liking it can be a trifle excessive here. Still, once debate on this point is over and attention can fix on other aspects of these performances there is plenty of common ground for admiration.
The voice is sumptuous in power and quality, the range is impressive, the style authoritative. Excellent, for instance, are the dreadful old campaigner's song in Les huguenots, the grisly solo of Alvise in La Gioconda, the sardonic challenge of ''Ave, Signor'' in Mefistofele. The Lullaby in Mignon is attractively caressed; the bass part in the trio from La forza del destino almost matches Pinza in the famous contemporary HMV recording with Ponselle and Martinelli, even if Pasero's associates fail to measure up to the comparison (mind, Merli does observe the pianissimo at ''M'abbandona'' which his opposite number appears to have carefully deleted from his score). A limitation is that so many of the arias seem in effect to be sung by the same character—an exception being the Don Carlos aria where sorrow colours the voice, and the line ''gia spunta il di'' has a sudden vividness of despair. Pasero had the essentially Italian gift of the ripe, vibrant bass quality which the operatic world in general came to associate—almost identify—with Pinza. In those days it seemed that the continued provision of the type could be taken for granted; nowadays it begins to seem that they were virtually the end of their line.'