Italy's principal resident bass in the 1930s and 1940s was eclipsed in the larger world view by their leading export basso, Ezio Pinza. Pinza appears to have had the richer, rounder voice, while in the earlier years of Pasero's career the great volume and authority of Nazzareno de Angelis senior to both of them, presented, as they say, 'a hard act to follow'. The previous collection on Preiser (6/90) had to be recommended with enthusiasm tempered by caution. This drew upon Pasero's Columbia recordings of the late 1920s where the vibrato (of a rapid, rich and essentially Italian type) would be altogether too much for the prevailing modern taste. The second volume, now under review, comprises (with a single exception) HMV recordings made in wartime. These too show the voice as a particularly vibrant instrument, but it is easier, with them, to realize how, in the theatre, the vibrato would settle in to the overall impression, which is certainly one of great splendour and mastery.
In fact, the vibrato is probably nowhere so noticeable as in the first item of all. This is the Count's aria from Le nozze di Figaro, sung with fully-committed bass timbre which has nothing of the German or of the modern homogenized tone about it, but, instead, a thorough-going Italian richness. This was one of Pasero's regular roles at La Scala, where he also sang Leporello, little of whose authentic character comes through in the version here of the Catalogue song. On the other hand, Don Basilio (Il barbiere) stands vividly before us in the Slander aria: a highly effective performance which begins with intimidating seriousness and develops with malicious glee. His fine style (though not of the very finest) in the Bellini and Verdi arias is often impressive, but the crowning achievement is Godunov's monologue, where the beauty of the singing fuses most satisfyingly Q with strong dramatic feeling. Sarastro's aria and the Pietas Signore (commonly attributed to Stradella and, here, to Rossini, but correctly to the nineteenth-century Swiss composer, Louis Niedermeyer) are taken too quickly, presumably to get them on to the ten-inch 78 originals. All the rest are well worth having, and perhaps I should add a reminder that Vol. 2 of the La Scala Edition on EMI (4/94) includes Pasero's 1938 recording of King Philip's solo in Don Carlo, considered by several good judges to be the best of all.'