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What follows
is excerpted from Göran Forsling’s review for Musicweb of Naxos’s recent release of a
newly-remastered recording of Björling’s 1950 Faust broadcast from the Metropolitan
Opera.
This 3 CD set
contains some of the most glorious tenor singing ever recorded. Buy it!!! The name Ward Marston
as Restoration Producer is as always a guarantee that the quality of the sound is the best
imaginable. And so it is here as well, but not even he can do much about a generally thin
orchestral sound and a substantial helping of extraneous noises: coughs (all right, it was
recorded the day before Christmas Eve and the winter cold had begun in N.Y.), bumps…. And of
course stage movements are heard, some of them contributing to the atmosphere of being there at
the old Met. Some of it is slightly irritating and in one scene there is a constant ticking
noise that I wasn’t able to identify. [Editor’s note: This occurs during’s Marguerite’s
“spinning-song” and comes from the old fake loom used as a prop in this ancient Met production!
I saw this production at a 1953 student performance. Gads. —DS]
I wonder where
the microphone was placed? The applause after the set numbers is retained and it is good to
hear the enthusiasm from the audience. At the end of acts they are quickly faded out and
instead we hear the announcer—I suppose it is Milton Cross who was the announcer from 1931,
when the Met broadcasts began, until 1975—with colourful comments. The sound quality
naturally affects the enjoyment of the orchestra and also the chorus suffers. As usual,
however, when the music-making is outstanding one soon forgets the technical shortcomings and
just leans back to enjoy the performance. From very early on it is obvious that this will be a
thrilling [afternoon]. Fausto Cleva adopts generally lively tempos and generates a lot of
energy and there are enthusiastic contributions from the chorus. I think Gounod’s sometimes
over-sweet music fares well when desentimentalized. And Cleva knows when to draw out the
phrases, e.g. in the Garden scene duet.
It is a great
relief that the voices are so well caught and as soon as we hear Jussi Björling’s easily
recognisable timbre (the first singing in the opera) we know that we are in for an
unforgettable performance. This was one of his favourite parts, but besides the cavatina, he
never recorded anything from the opera, even if there were plans for a complete recording with
Beecham. So much better then, that this document exists. Björling was in tremendous form that
day, he sings with such confidence and authority and pours out a steady stream of golden
tone.
The whole first
scene is a real tour de force of great singing, since the young Cesare Siepi is almost on a par
with Björling.When Faust approaches Marguerite at the end of Act 1,
Ne permettez-vous pas (CD1 track 13) Björling sings so beautifully and the words
je t’aime! (I love you!) are invested with such glow that even a piece of
rock from the Scandinavian Mountain Range would melt.
The Cavatina
(CD1 track 17) is gloriously sung with refulgent tone and a perfect high C, but one misses some
of the more lyrical qualities in this aria. On the other hand we get those aplenty in the
Garden scene duet (CD2 track 4 and 5) where Ô nuit
d’amour must be unsurpassed.
And listen
to Divine purete (track 6 at 3:12)—can anyone regard this as “cool” singing? In the
Prison scene duet Mon Coeur est pénétré
d’épouvante! (CD3 track 9) is really
incandescent. I can only repeat the first sentence of this review: “... some of the most
glorious tenor singing ever recorded”. And Björling isn’t the only glorious singer here. I have
already briefly mentioned Cesare Siepi, 27 years of age but with an authority and a palette of
colours and histrionic skill (including a really devilish laughter) that one thought needed at
least another ten years to acquire. His voice, a true, black, velvety bass, can be seductive
and menacing, elegant and crude, oily and straight-forward.
Le veau
d’or (CD1 track 9) is delivered at a rousing
tempo, while his Il était
temps (CD2 track 3) shows his outstanding
legato and the serenade (CD2 track 10) is sung with melting tone and elegance; the first
laughter doesn’t sound very diabolic, but the final outburst clearly shows where he
belongs. A great portrait of Méphistophélès to set beside Chaliapin’s and Christoff ’s
assumptions but Siepi is more elegant than either of them.
The third main
character, Marguerite, is here sung by the American soprano Dorothy Kirsten, who seems to be
rather under-represented on record. To judge from this hearing she should have had more
recording opportunities. She hasn’t quite the innocent charm and the silken pianissimo singing
of Victoria de los Angeles, possibly the best Marguerite on disc, but she has still a fine
voice, slightly fluttery but with a good ring and she is a fine actor. The song about the King
of Thulé and the Jewel song are excellently done, a view which the audience at the Met seems to
share. The Church scene finds her in slightly less steady voice but in the concluding prison
scene she is back on form again.
Of the other
soloists Frank Guarrera, most well-known perhaps for his Ford in Toscanini’s recording
of Falstaff,
has steady fine tone in Avant de quitter ces
lieux (CD1 track 8). His French is better than
the others’, but he lacks the French elegance, he pushes too much and would probably feel more
at home in verismo. His death scene is even more forceful. The rest of the cast consists of
acceptable comprimario singers.
The main reason
for acquiring the set is the singing of the three main characters and, first and foremost Jussi
Björling. The value of the discs is further enhanced by the substantial appendix, containing
more than 40 minutes of equally glorious singing from the great tenor as in the opera.
There are excerpts from three occasions, first the Telephone Hour, where he sings
Schubert’s Ständchen very operatically but gloriously. Compared to the Gigli recording
Björling still conveys something of the Lied character—and he sings it
in German. Victor Herbert’s Neapolitan Love
Song, where he challenges and outsings Mario Lanza, is
a reminder of his early recording career in the 1930s when he recorded quite a lot of popular
songs, much of them under the pseudonym Erik Odde—recordings that are due for release on Naxos,
at least in Sweden.Whether they can be of general interest for an international public, sung in
Swedish, is another matter. The recording is very acceptable, while the Hollywood Bowl
recordings are more distant. He sings however a finely nuanced Che gelida manina with a
brilliant high C and a lovely pianissimo ending. In the love duet he is partnered by his wife
Anna-Lisa, who was a good singer too, which can be heard here, but she chose to have a very
limited career of her own and instead take care of the children. Her Mimi is very well sung and
she also takes part (uncredited) in the Madrigal from Roméo et Juliette, which is
announced by Jussi. The remaining items, recorded in a studio with the Swedish Radio
Symphony Orchestra in October 1952 and broadcast on Boxing Day the same year, offer much better
sound. Una furtiva
lagrima is better sung than either of his
official recordings and the aria from Cavalleria rusticana shows him deeply involved with
tremendous intensity. “Cool” singer? Bad actor? Just listen to this track and
you’ll be converted. His singing “In fernem Land” from Lohengrin may come as a
surprise to many listeners, but Björling would certainly have been a wonderful Lohengrin
on stage and on records. Among the many plans for further recording projects that never
came to being, was actually Lohengrin. The aria is sung here in Swedish, sensitively,
authoritatively with refulgent tone and excellent diction. He sang this aria at his
very last concert, just weeks before his untimely death, luckily recorded and later
issued by RCA. At the same concert he also sang two of the three Sibelius songs recorded
here, Svarta rosor and Säv, säv,
susa, two favourite songs of his, recorded
several times. They are on the recently issued song recital on Naxos. The first of
them, Var det en dröm?, suddenly finds him more recessed, almost as if he were singing from
behind the orchestra while the harp is centre-stage. In Svarta rosor (Black
roses) the harp is still prominent but Björling is closer to the microphone. This balance
problem apart he sings wonderfully with Sten Frykberg providing fine
accompaniments. This appendix alone is worth the price of the whole set. And since
the opera has so much to offer you won’t regret the purchase. You don’t get a libretto
but Keith Anderson’s detailed synopsis is a good substitute and Malcolm Walker gives
interesting information about the opera and the singers.
Buy
it!
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