This is, justifiably, a legendary performance, not least for Panizza's conducting. It equals, if it does not surpass, that of Toscanini on his RCA recording (7/91): he is stupendous in revealing the tension of the piece, nicely balancing the dramatic and the romantic, alert to Verdi's acute orchestration. Then the cast list brings together Zinka Milanov, reigning diva at the Metropolitan just before, during and after the war, with Bjorling on the occasion of his final Met appearance until after that war. Milanov was probably at the height of her powers in the early 1940s, a time when she, ironically enough, made few commercial discs. Her account of Amelia's Act 2 scene is a locus classicus of spinto singing; the tone, attack and phrasing appear to be in perfect accord with the music in hand—the thrill of the aria's closing section, where she and Panizza are in full cry, shows why live performances catch that something which is unattainable in the studio.
When Milanov is joined by Bjorling's peerless Riccardo you can expect something quite out of the ordinary, and so it is. The pair give a passion and thrust to the love duet that have never been matched on disc—though Roman and Martinelli the following year are almost as compelling, also under Panizza (Eklipse, 1/94). Bjorling is in as thrilling voice as in the Covent Garden Il trovatore of a year earlier (see above); vibrant, stylish, musical, stentorian when asked for and with the ability to sing a real piano—what more can one ask for this side of heaven? Indeed, anyone hearing this duet rendered with such an unrivalled resplendence, as it is here, is spoilt for any other performance. The singers are just as rewarding in the rest of the work, too, and Bjorling's Riccardo dies with appropriate eloquence and forgiveness.
Casting luck continues with Castagna's Ulrica: in character, smoothly sung and well articulated, Andreva's sparky Oscar and a strong pair of conspirators. Unfortunately Sved, new to the Met, is not in his colleagues' class or that of Bonelli in 1941 (for Panizza). The voice itself has a Ruffo-like heft, but unfortunately its owner often uses it crudely in projecting Renato's anger. But that isn't enough to prevent me placing this reading near the top of the whole opera's discography, nor is the omission of Riccardo's last scene aria (Martinelli restored it in 1941), especially since, in sound terms, it matches the best mono. I would hazard a guess that these transfers are taken from the Met's 'official' recording as may be the extracts from the 1941 Il trovatore, which complement Bjorling's 1939 Covent Garden version. The tenor may be in marginally freer voice in 1939, but his authority here is greater, the Act 3 aria now phrased more broadly, while ''Di quella pira'' is better recorded and even more fiery. Castagna is as important an Azucena as she was Ulrica, but Greco, heard briefly, is a weak Leonora.'