These reissues of historic sets of Verdi are welcome on several counts. They have been superbly remastered by Andrew Walter at EMI’s Abbey Road studios. Their presentation is just as admirable with many evocative photos from the original sessions, and texts and translations – at last, in this series – provided. Then, most important of all, we have performances with, save for just three exceptions – de los Angeles as Amelia in Boccanegra and Nicolai and Christoff in Don Carlo – Italians in all the roles. In consequence, we hear, as is so seldom the case today, absolutely authentic enunciation of the text. That’s a great boon. So is the well-routined, more-than-reliable conducting of Santini and Serafin (the more vital of the two) and the splendidly idiomatic contributions of the Rome forces throughout all five sets, the chorus sounding much more authentic than the British choirs on many, more recent recordings of Verdi.
Though none of the sets, except the Boccanegra, would be among my top recommendations, every one has something that makes one say: ‘That’s just how I want that role to sound.’ In the oldest, the wartime Ballo, it is the sheer elan of Gigli’s Riccardo and the unstinting force of the young Barbieri’s Ulrica. The 1939 Requiem, something of a classic (but be warned there are a couple of small excisions), has Stignani and Pinza as ideal proponents of the mezzo and bass parts, and Caniglia and Gigli, a few vocal vagaries apart, in almost the class of their colleagues: how rewarding to hear again such opulent, Italianate voices in this overwhelming score.
In the 1946 Aida, one sits up and listens to the fine declamation of the veteran bass Pasero and the command of Stignani’s Amneris. Don Carlo, in the four-act version, has the legendary confrontations between brothers-in-law Gobbi and Christoff as Rodrigo and Philip II, both at the peak of their form in the mid-50s, and boasts Giulio Neri as the most imposing of all Inquisitors on disc and another distinguished bass Clabassi in the small role of the monk. In Boccanegra, alone among the four operas, there’s a near-ideal cast in a version that will surely remain a classic as long as Verdi’s operas are listened to on disc, in spite of a few cuts – how very sad it wasn’t made in stereo, which would have been perfectly possible at the time. Once again Gobbi, as the Doge, and Christoff, as Fiesco, are locked in vocal conflict. De los Angeles is a dreamy, vulnerable Amelia, Campora a fervent Gabriele.
There are downsides. In the earlier sets, the Requiem apart, Caniglia is no longer as reliable technically as she once was. Her singing remains viscerally exciting and full of unfettered passion, but tone and pitch are variable. Gigli in the third period of his career is no model of Verdian style, but we are consoled by a tone that remains golden and a manner that is disarmingly spontaneous in a way that would not be allowed in the studio today. Bechi’s rather snarling manner is something of an acquired taste, although he is never less than a presence. In Don Carlo, Fillipeschi’s stentorian, unvaried singing is a bit of a trial, and Stella and Nicolai, estimable singers as they may be, have been bettered in the years since as Elisabetta and Eboli.
My advice is go for the Requiem and the Boccanegra, add the Don Carlo to your collection if you want to hear, as you should, Gobbi and Christoff in unforgettable portrayals. Don’t buy the other two sets without hearing them first.'